


A Skirmish of Wit

by lettersfromnowhere



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Much Ado About Nothing, Theater AU, blame my literature nerd self for this, ill-advised matchmaking plots, sometimes a bit of inane silliness is just what one needs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: Gamora's hoping her three years of blood, sweat, and tears in her school's drama department will reach their glorious pinnacle with her portrayal of leading lady Beatrice in the school production of "Much Ado About Nothing." Peter figures, lacking any better ideas, that the fall play might be worth a try, and it turns out that this acting gig has its perks - he'll count being cast in a lead role in his first play a definite win.It seems like a perfect setup, but for the fact that both would very much like to strangle each other onstage.That is, before Peter and Gamora realize that if Beatrice and Benedick could keep up their skirmish of wit, perhaps they can as well.





	1. Not 'Til a Hot January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auditions always bring about new beginnings. These ones, though, are not particularly auspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's me again...  
> And I have another AU.  
> And it's in high school again.  
> And I read a Shakespeare play in one sitting (to be fair, it had a modern English translation) for the sole purpose of researching for this.  
> Does ANYTHING I just said make this sound like a good idea? Nope!  
> But I'm doing it anyway!  
> Enjoy. 
> 
>  And a note on theater auditions: the way I did them when I did drama, we always did cold reads. That meant we were given a script and told to read certain lines for the character we were auditioning for. I realized too late that I forgot to explain that in the actual story, so I really hope people read the author’s notes. 
> 
> Also, the drama director, Ms. Rael, is supposed to be Nova Prime (whose actual name is Irani Rael), and I haven't seen the original Guardians in forever so I doubt I got her in character. Actually, I doubt I got anyone in character. Oops...
> 
> Titles of both the story itself and the chapters are taken from "Much Ado About Nothing."

The scene that afternoon was a familiar one: Waning September sunlight streamed through the dirty upper windows, barely illuminating the worn red plush of the theater’s seats.  Prospective actors and actresses milled about, chattering nervously. The whole room smelled unmistakably of dust and sweat. Gamora took in the scene with a covert smile before making her way to the front-row seat she’d taken at every prior audition. She’d never admit it, but walking into this auditorium on the first day of a new production felt like coming home.

 

“Hey.” A voice snapped her out of her reminiscence. “You’re Gamora, right?”

 

She turned abruptly to face the speaker, a blonde boy she’d seen only in passing glimpses around campus before. “Yes,” she answered cautiously. “Why?”

 

“You basically run the drama program, don’t you?” the boy asked.

 

“…no, Ms. Rael does that,” Gamora said, narrowing her eyes. “If you have any questions, ask her, not me.”

 

“That…makes sense, I guess.” The boy fished around in his backpack for something, evidently put off by her curt reply. _Good._ “’M Peter, by the way.”

 

“Uh…nice to meet you…Peter,” Gamora responded haltingly, unsure what to make of his strange greeting and unwilling to encourage the conversation any further. She was mercifully cut off when Ms. Rael, the drama program’s director, took the stage.

 

“Welcome, thespians!” She announced grandiosely, eyes sparkling. “I cannot wait to get started on this year’s production, nor to see what all of you bring to the table. As you’ve probably heard, this semester we’re going to be performing the classic Shakespeare comedy _Much Ado About Nothing_ ” – Gamora heard several students audibly groan – “and quit groaning, it’s a masterpiece of theater. I know you probably all think that Shakespeare is boring, but just you wait…you’re all going to love this production!”

 

Gamora nodded in pointless acknowledgement. She’d been one of the privileged few told what the fall play would be in advance and did her research accordingly. Opting against pulling out her phone and attempting to reread it just in case, Gamora flicked through her brain for anything she could remember from her quick initial read of the play as the director reeled off the familiar instructions: come onstage when any part you might be interested in auditioning for is called, stay until the end just in case…

 

She tuned out the early auditions of those auditioning for minor roles of servants, policemen, and several characters whose names she remembered but couldn’t place. Peter, whose face was buried in his phone, seemed to be doing the same – reading the script, online probably. _Smarter than he looks,_ Gamora observed. He glanced up as if reading her thoughts.

 

“What part are you going out for?” He asked genially, clearly unfazed by her earlier coldness.

 

“I’m not sure,” Gamora lied.

 

“Yes, you are,” Peter countered. “I can tell you’ve been planning this for weeks.”

 

 _Irritatingly perceptive,_ she observed, marking a mental tally against him. “I hope I can get a lead role, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

 

“You will, no sweat,” Peter reassured her. "I mean, probably. I guess." 

 

She shook her head, inwardly hoping that Peter was as correct about her chances as he thought he was.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lastly, would all actors and actresses trying out for the roles of Benedick and Beatrice take the stage?” Ms. Rael called. Gamora took in a long breath.

 

Six auditions under her belt and she still couldn’t stop her stomach from turning ever so slightly, as much as she concealed it, when she heard the role she’d been dreaming of playing called to the stage. Gamora had never cared much for leading roles in previous plays; playing a complex, layered character was more appealing to her than being cast as in the role with the most time onstage. But this time…

 

She’d made up her mind. It was Beatrice – the play’s whip-smart, sharp-witted heroine – or no role at all. A perfect audition was paramount, considering the line of prospective Beatrices (fourteen girls!) that had formed onstage. Eight boys stood opposite, the one in the front holding a script.

 

“All right, would…”- Ms. Rael consulted her roster – “Mantis and Drax please read from ‘I wonder’ on page five to ‘you always’ on page six?”

 

A small, mousy underclass girl and an incredibly beefy upperclassman Gamora didn’t recognize approached each other and began to read. With the single person in front of her gone, she could see who she’d be partnered with for her cold read, and –

 

 _Someone please tell me this isn’t happening,_ Gamora thought, wishing with all her heart that she were dreaming. Maddeningly nosy Peter stood at the front of the line of Benedicks. She’d have to read to _him?_

 

_Spare me the horror._

“Thank you! Next, please,” Ms. Rael announced. The younger girl passed Gamora the script with a _good luck_ expression. She took a few steps forward, playing confidence she didn’t feel.

 

“I wonder that you should still be talking, Signor Benedick,” Gamora began, infusing every word with the genuine, though irrational, animosity she felt towards her partner. “Nobody marks you.”

 

Peter grinned, roughish and self-assured, and countered, “What! My dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?”

 

 _He’s not half-bad,_ she admitted. “Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick?” She asked, fixing Peter with her most wicked grin. “Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come into her presence.”

 

Peter barely glanced at his next line before his face lit up with schadenfreude. He knew, clearly, how much Gamora loathed his every word, and she noted without fondness how much Peter enjoyed provoking her disdain.

 

“Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all the ladies, you excepted.” He grinned back, his expression every bit as devious as her own. “And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.”

 

 _He’s actually enjoying this,_ Gamora thought, practically seething for no ascertainable reason. “A dear happiness to women. They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor.” _Sounds about right._ “I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.”

 

“God keep your ladyship still in mind, so some gentleman or other shall ‘scape a predestined scratched face,” Peter shot back glibly. If it hadn’t been driven by his inexplicable desire to make her uncomfortable, Gamora would have found his performance at least somewhat impressive.

 

“Scratching could not make it worse an ‘twere such a face as yours were,” Gamora read, holding back another satisfied smirk. She’d been expecting to be forced to stage a romantic exchange, but swapping insults was far more advantageous.

 

“Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher,” Peter replied.

 

“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours,” Gamora said airily, allowing a slight smile to slip through (purely for theatrical purposes, _definitely_ for no other reason – not at all).

“I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i’ God’s name. I have done.” Peter closed his script smugly with that final line.

 

“You always end with a jade’s trick. I know you of old.” Gamora mimicked the gesture, shutting hers with a satisfying _smack._

She glanced up at Ms. Rael, trying to read her face for any word on her performance. Her expression looked, Gamora thought, like the facial equivalent of fireworks. “Thank you, and _well done,”_ she said, beaming. “Next, please?”

 

Gamora let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. That had been…something. She decided that it proved two things: first, that she remained the undisputed insult queen; and second, that maybe, somehow, Peter’s maddening existence could be an advantage.

 

And if Benedick's part were his? Well, she could stand the flowery speeches if it meant calling Peter disgustingly ugly onstage again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably include the link to the text I used for, y'know, citations and stuff: http://nfs.sparknotes.com/muchado/
> 
> Sparknotes is a lifesaver. 
> 
> Why did I post this...?


	2. Dear Lady Disdain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is, if nothing else, going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has many Long-Winded Thought Monologues About Feelings...mmm, my favorite! (Kidding.) 
> 
> It's also pretty much entirely an exposition chapter, so there is also that. 
> 
> Aaaaand it borrows some aspects of I Guess It's Half Timing (my last high school AU) that seemed to work in that story, which, yay, self-plagarism? You'll see why if you've read that. Sorry...

Peter felt as if the moment his eyes fell on his name next to _Benedick_ at the bottom of the posted cast list outside the theater marked the beginning of something significant. That maybe he’d finally stumbled across the thing he was meant to spend his life doing after years of trial and error. Like he’d been given a chance to figure out where he belonged in the world, what he had to offer it, after all these years of figuring that the answers were “nowhere” and “nothing.” He hated to be dramatic (or so he claimed, proceeding to be incredibly dramatic in every conceivable situation), but Peter was convinced that this show could be life-changing.

 

But even if the production didn’t meet his earth-shattering expectations, it had its perks. It was a chance to flirt publicly with a girl so far out of his league it wasn’t even funny (never mind that Gamora, the actress cast as Beatrice, was possibly the most uptight individual he’d ever met), roast everybody in the cast at _least_ four times, and maybe, for once, belong to something, and that alone was more than worth the effort. It was a good time waiting to be had.

 

He went to class with music in his head and a lightness in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Gamora’s heart sank.

 

She may have seen it coming the moment she stepped off the stage, but that did not make the indignity of playing stage lover to Peter Quill, of all people, any less obnoxious a prospect. Never mind that legitimate contempt for her costar would make their banter incredibly convincing (Ms. Rael had not been wrong when, the day before, she’d raved to Gamora about their ‘remarkable onstage chemistry’) – she was entirely unenthused about the casting choice. Not only did he immediately rub her all the wrong ways, but she barely knew him. That issue, though, was far easier to remedy.

 

“Tell me everything you know about Peter Quill,” Gamora asked endless times that day, interrogating every friend of hers who knew him, every fellow cast member, even her sister. The responses she gathered were mixed; some of the talk surrounding him sounded like it belonged on a strange urban legends website on the most unreliable corner of the internet. Gamora quickly learned that whether or not anything she heard was true, Peter had quite the reputation, though she could not tell exactly what that reputation was for.

 

“They call him Crocodile Tears because he once made himself cry to get out of a detention,” Rocket, a robotics geek she’d heard was an acquaintance of Peter’s, had claimed.

 

“He once read a limerick about avocados as a symbol of human despair at a poetry slam I participated in. It was…as… _mediocre_ as you would expect from someone as low-brow as Quill.” That one came from Ayesha, a maddeningly high-and-mighty aspiring poet whose obsession with bringing about a revival of the beatnik movement was rivaled only by her unabated and frankly rather disturbing worship of the ancient Greeks.

 

“He loves classic rock and talks too much,” her sister Nebula, who’d taken several classes with Peter and had few good things to say for the experience, informed her. “He pretends to be all suave, but I’ve seen him cry in public four times.”

 

None of the information Gamora managed to get out of people was particularly useful; all she could glean from the myriad reports she received was that Peter was somewhat of a loner, went to great pains to hide it, and was by all accounts somewhat strange. That, and, apparently, if nothing else, the boy’s unrealized potential as an actor was enormous.

 

This was to some extend advantageous: for all her displeasure with Ms. Rael’s casting decision, Gamora wanted _Much Ado About Nothing_ to be as flawless a production as it could be. And if what she’d seen at the audition held true, Peter would certainly not hinder that goal. But…why, why, _why,_ she wondered, did a fantastic actor have to come in such a package?

 

It appeared now that Beatrice and Benedick’s onstage skirmish of wit was not the only battle she’d have to win this semester.

 

* * *

 

 

Nebula had no idea why her sister had so suddenly taken an interest in Peter Quill, but whatever that reason was, she figured he would know better than she did what Gamora's strange interrogation was all about.

 

“My sister asked me about you,” she told him the next time she saw him in fifth-period physics.

 

“Probably about the play.” Peter shrugged casually, not appearing to be as surprised as Nebula had anticipated he would be.

 

“Yeah, makes sense.” She turned back to her work.

 

“Wait, Nebula?” Peter asked.

 

“Yeah…?”

 

“What did she ask?” Peter inquired, a hint of something anxious slipping through in his tone.

 

“Oh, not much. Just what I knew about you.” Nebula smirked to herself. “I don’t think she’s happy about the casting.”

 

“Oh, she’s definitely not,” Peter said. “I’m pretty sure she hated me at first sight.”

 

“Definitely,” Nebula confirmed.  

 

“Well, I have no idea what I did to make her hate me, but I’m not exactly her biggest fan either…” Peter shook his head. “But our characters hate each other, so that works out,” he continued, clearly desperate to fill the void with talk. “We’re kinda in this constant word-battle and-“

 

“Gamora gave me a two-hour-long explanation of this entire play more thorough than the Cliffnotes. I know,” Nebula sighed.

 

“Whoa. That’s dedication,” Peter said, almost verging on admiration.

 

“Drama’s her life. She’s been doing it since, like, fifth grade and she cares more about set design and warmup drills and line memorization techniques than she does about ninety-eight percent of the people on this planet,” Nebula explained. “She’s even more excited about this one than usual.”

 

“I mean, it’s my first time doing this and all, but I am too,” Peter replied. “It seems like a fun role, y’know?”

 

“And you’re apparently not a half-bad actor, if Gamora is right about you. Which she might not be. But…” Nebula fixed him with her most menacing glare. “You better not ruin this for her.”

 

“I don’t _want_ to make a fool out of myself onstage, why would I…” Peter trailed off.

 

“You. Her. Oil and water. Make this a bad experience for my sister and I’ll rip out your larynx with my bare hands.”

 

“Um…okay,” Peter said, remarkably docile in what was no doubt an effort to avoid further arousing the ire of his stuck-up costar’s sister.   
  


“Good.” Nebula smirked.

 

_They have no idea what’s going on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Does this fall too far into a literary nerd niche to appeal to most of the people on this website? Are my characters OOC, and what do people think Nebula is up to? 
> 
> Comments are pure rays of sunshine :)


	3. None Left to Protest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is going no better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read-through of the big Act III confession scene here! I cut it off because I was running out of time to finish the chapter, but I hope it still works. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, in what I’m hoping was a less cheesy twist than it sounds like, Groot went from a tree in canon to a tree-hugger (hippie type) in this AU. Heh...

First rehearsals were always the same: simple read-throughs of the scropt, no blocking; actors sat in a wide circle of chairs, scattered sporadically among them. Ms. Rael stood at a podium off to the side, passing scripts to the cast as they walked in. Gamora took a seat at the head of the circle, the familiar position she’d taken at virtually every read-through of her career, scanning the fresh pages of her script (try as she did to take care of hers, they always ended up battered beyond repair by the time a production was finished). A waify underclassman she recognized as the girl who’d read for Beatrice before her at the audition took the seat to her left.

 

“Hello,” she said, her perceptive face falling slightly when Gamora didn’t look up from her script.

 

She glanced up after a moment. “Sorry, what?” She replied, giving the familiar girl beside her a brief once-over. “Oh, hi. You’re the girl from the auditions – Mantis, right?”

 

Mantis’ eyes lit up. “Yes! I saw you read for Beatrice. You were incredible,” she gushed. “And you and Peter made it look so real! It didn’t seem like you were acting at all.”

 

“Thanks,” Gamora muttered. “We didn’t really have to.”

 

“Didn’t have to what?”

 

“Speak of the devil,” Gamora sighed. “I was telling Mantis here” – she gestured to the girl, who gave a small wave – “how our audition looked real solely because we _weren’t actually acting_.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “We didn’t have to pretend to hate each other – _ow!”_

Gamora stifled an inappropriately-timed laugh. The student beside Peter, a disheveled brunette (Groot, she remembered from the last production) in tie-dye and cargo pants, had evidently kicked his shin.

 

“As a cast, we gotta be in _harmony,_ man,” Groot chastised. “Embrace your fellow humans as your own family and-“

 

“That’s enough, Groot,” Gamora warned him gently, cutting off whatever barb Peter evidently had planned. He was an odd one, but ultimately meant well; she didn’t want his unorthodox first impression to end him up on the receiving end of one of Peter’s better-executed insults.

 

“But there’s so much _disunity_ in this room,” he protested.

 

“I’m sure that will improve as we all get used to working together,” she said patiently, reaching to place a reassuring but firm hand on his arm. “What part did you get?”

 

“Borachio,” Groot answered. “He’s, like, the villain’s assistant. You’re Beatrice, right?”

 

“Yes, that would be me,” Gamora sighed.

 

“That’s great, man,” he drawled. “Leading lady!”

 

Gamora forced a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“And you…what’s your name again?” he turned to Peter.

 

“Peter,” he sighed. “And you’re…”

 

“Groot. You should stop hatin’ on Gamora here,” Groot lectured. “She’s great.”

 

“With all due respect, she hated me first,” Peter protested.

 

“Doesn’t matter, man,” Groot said. “You gotta _rise above.”_

Peter, who looked utterly disgusted, was spared from any further attempts to defend himself when Ms. Rael entered the circle. “Welcome to our first rehearsal! Please hold your applause,” she joked, looking out expectantly at the circle of dead-eyed teenagers staring blankly back at her. One raised his hand.

 

“Yes, Jacob?” She asked.

 

“It’s Taserface,” the boy insisted. “But anyway. What’s this play about, again?”

 

“For the eightieth time, Jacob, I am not going to call you that. And if you weren’t listening when I explained what we were doing the first three times, that’s on you,” she replied coolly. “Now, if we don’t have any more _legitimate_ questions, we may begin. Stay in your seats; if you come to a line said by your character, read it. Don’t worry too much about emotion; we’ll get to that in future rehearsals. Got it?”

 

Silence.

 

 

* * *

 

“Ah, how much the man deserve of me that could right her!” Gamora read with what she hoped was suitably tragic aplomb.

 

“May a man do it?” Asked Peter, voice full of thinly-veiled eagerness to please. _He’s good,_ Gamora thought, prickling. He’d picked up on his character’s emotional implications faster than she would have liked – it would be far easier to hate someone who couldn’t do his job.

“A very even way, but no such friend,” she responded.

 

“May a man do it?” Peter – or, rather, Benedick – urged.

 

“It is a man’s office, but not yours,” Gamora sighed.

 

“I do love nothing in the world as well as you. Is that not strange?” Peter asked, a ghost of a smile crossing his features at the line. Her stomach dropped.

 

_That wasn’t completely faked, was it?_

“As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you,” she began shakily, barely able to contain her dual disgust and timidity at the words she was reading. “But believe me not, and yet I lie not, I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.”

 

“By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me,” Peter read, smiling in earnest now. She could no longer tell where Benedick ended and Peter began, but regardless she felt the fire of spite in the pit of her stomach both flaring up and extinguishing simultaneously. _Why is this different than any other role?_ Gamora asked herself, but she knew she’d never find her answer. Not now.

 

“Do not swear, and eat it,” she replied archly, disguising her disconcerted emotions behind her actress’ mask.

 

“I will swear by it that you love me,” Peter insisted, “and I will make him eat it that says I not love you.”

 

“Will you not eat your word?” Gamora contested, slowly regaining her bearing.

 

“With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest that I love thee,” Peter countered, slight color beginning to rise in his cheeks. Gamora noticed almost smugly.

 

“Why then, God forgive me,” she shot back.

 

“What offense, sweet Beatrice?” Peter asked.

 

Gamora usually made a policy of staying entirely true to her character on set, but she found the correlation between her character’s life and her own painfully timely.

 

 _That’s what I’m wondering right now,_ she thought, no closer to an explanation of this strange mental storm of the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys feeling about this? Would love to know if this sucks or if I'm doing all right with it! Comments are chocolate-covered caramels chopped up and served over ice cream :)


	4. Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, all it takes is a well-executed plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tag-team matchmaking! ...yay? I swear I do this in every AU I write...
> 
> (Also, I understand that most of these people being in a play is somewhat OOC, but whatever. It works if I can make it work. Wink.)
> 
> ENDNOTE: I know this title seems grammatically incorrect, but it actually is the correct quote from the play. Old English can be weird; it’s best not to question it, heh.

“Psst.”

 

Peter turned abruptly as he felt the telltale jab of a pencil point poking his shoulder. “Yeah?”

 

“How’s the play going?” Nebula asked nonchalantly – _too casual not to have an ulterior motive,_ Peter decided – as she withdrew the offending pencil.

 

“Uh…how’s what?” He asked, playing innocent to no effect.

 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Quill.”

 

“Oh, you mean the play?” He replied, hoping his concession would prevent her from attempting to stab him to death with a writing utensil.

“Of course I mean the play, imbecile,” Nebula scoffed. “Is it coming together fast enough for my sister’s taste?”

 

“Uh, I don’t even think that’s _possible_ ,” Peter said. “If she had her way, it would be performance-ready the first week. And literally all we’ve done are read-throughs. We haven’t even put the set together yet.”

 

“You should know that that is not what I was asking you,” Nebula said, the beginnings of a sneer taking shape on her face. “Are you getting along decently with Gamora?”

 

“Yeah, we’re fine. There’s, like, still some stuff there, but we can make it work-“

 

“She thinks she has feelings for you,” Nebula announced flatly.

 

Peter would later swear that he’d nearly fallen out of his chair at that. In reality, all that had happened (according to Nebula) was a change of expression. “He looked mildly terrified, and then he was smiling like an idiot,” she told Gamora later that day. “Then his face turned bright red and he asked me”-

 

“She…what?” Peter choked.

 

“She doesn’t know yet, but Gamora thinks she might like you,” Nebula repeated.

 

“This is officially the weirdest day of my life,” Peter said, shaking his head incredulously. “You mean Gamora not only doesn’t hate me, but might actually…”

 

“Maybe, but she’d never admit it,” Nebula replied. “I could barely get her to tell _me_ anything, and when she did it was all so vague that I had no idea what she was talking about for most of the conversation.”

 

“So what do I do about it?” Peter asked. “I mean, I never really thought about the possibility of…that…because, like, she’s always hated me. But maybe…?”

 

“If you know what’s good for you? _Absolutely nothing_ ,” Nebula warned.

“But why? If she likes me, shouldn’t I-“

 

“She doesn’t know yet. So don’t do anything, don’t say anything, and if you tell her I told you, I’m going to melt your face off with a blowtorch.”

 

“I like my face, so I suppose I’ll have to go with that,” Peter sighed. His head still reeling at Nebula’s proxy-confession, he tried to turn his attention back to the whiteboard. But he found he couldn’t quiet his mind.

 

 _Gamora…likes_ me?

* * *

 

 

“Why did I agree to this?” Rocket groaned, watching a boring scene of a boring play he couldn’t care less about in the wings of this boring theater –

 

“Because I told you to, man,” Groot reminded him.

 

“Yeah, and remind me again why I listened?”

 

“Have you seen Peter and Gamora together? They have such a natural vibe,” Groot said, changing the subject abruptly.

 

“Don’t they hate each other’s guts?” Rocket asked.

  
“They pretend to. I don’t buy it, man. Onstage, they cooperate. They act as one,” Groot replied, nodding approvingly.

 

“What aren’t you purchasing?” Drax interjected from his place in a far-off corner.

 

“That means that I don’t believe it,” Groot explained.

 

“And what don’t you believe?” Drax followed up.

 

“That Peter and Gamora actually hate each other as much as they say they do,” Groot answered.

 

“They definitely don’t,” another speaker confirmed.

 

“Even Mantis?” Drax asked, exasperated. “Am I the only one who has not apparently seen evidence that Peter and Gamora are secretly in love?”

 

“Hey, I never said that-“ Groot began.

  
“They almost certainly are,” Mantis cut in. “I’ve noticed many signs of romantic tension between them. I understand that they have to act like that, but I don’t think anyone acts _that_ well.”

 

“Disgusting,” Ayesha interjected. “She is beyond him in every way.”

 

“Well, I think it’d be kinda nice,” another cast member – Kraglin, a friend of Peter’s in middle school – weighed in.

 

“So do I,” Mantis agreed. “She definitely has feelings for him, and he likely feels the same way. Neither of them will ever show it, though.”

 

“We should help them out, man,” Groot decided. “We need to build bridges in our lives-“

 

“I mean, I’m all for locking ‘em in a storage closet together, but if it involves feelings, I’m out,” Rocket said.

 

“That is an excellent idea!” Drax crowed. “Let us confine them together in a small room to resolve their issues!”

  
“I don’t think that is the best way to go about it,” Mantis countered. “Maybe we should just try to help them get along first.”

 

“Meh. Not as fun,” Rocket dismissed. “Storage closet is still a better idea.”

 

“You do realize that they’ll likely just stand on opposite sides of the closet refusing to speak to each other until you let them out, right?” Ayesha asked.

 

“Hey, at least we can say we tried,” Rocket offered.

 

“But they’re not going to be happy with us if we lock them in a closet against their will,” Mantis pointed out. “Isn’t that kind of illegal? Like minor kidnapping or something?”

 

“I doubt that, but it may not be a good idea anyway,” Kraglin said. “Maybe we should go with her idea.”

 

“You people are boring,” Rocket scoffed. “Have fun with your season of the Drama Club Bachelorette. But don’t expect me to help you.”

 

“Rocket, you gotta help us. We need to cooperate as a single unit,” Groot protested.

 

“Yeah, sorry, _no.”_

 

“I’m out as well,” Ayesha announced. “I find your petty games rather below me.”

 

“So who _is_ in?” Mantis asked. “I am, even though I do not know how we’re actually going to do this yet and-“

 

“I’m in,” Drax cut her off.

 

“As am I,” Groot said.

 

“And me,” Kraglin agreed.

 

“I guess I can be here if you need a lock picked,” Rocket sighed. “And I think I can get Nebula on board if you want her.”

 

“So…we’re actually doing this, aren’t we?” Kraglin asked.

 

Drax nodded solemnly. “We’re going to set them up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have questions, comments, or concerns, I'd love to hear them!


	5. Bait the Hook Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armed with what he feels is a vastly superior plan to his fellow matchmakers' couples therapy idea, Rocket takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty points towards your score in the Most Awesome User Rankings that don't exist but should if you can identify the Infinity War reference in this chapter! (It may be obvious, it may not...I honestly have no idea.) 
> 
> Leave it to Rocket to come up with an absolutely terrible idea as a joke, have said idea shot down unanimously, and proceed to do it anyway. And to emotionally manipulate poor hippie Groot into playing along. 
> 
> Also, you'll notice a reference in this chapter to something called "wuwei." That is a subtle nod to my history classmates last year, with whom I had an inside joke about it. Wuwei is a Taoist concept that can essentially be described as "noninterference" or, as my textbook amusingly put it, "doing nothing." It seems very compatible with the hippie-type worldview, which is why Groot alludes to it. Being teenagers who ADORE "doing nothing", we thought it was vastly amusing, and it fit here, so I referenced it for old times' sake.

“C’mon, Groot,” Rocket begged. “You know it’s a great idea!”

 

Groot looked apprehensive. “I’m not sure so about this, Rocket. Didn't everyone agree to a different plan already?”

 

“Imagine the looks on their faces when they realize that they’re locked in,” Rocket cackled. “Come _on,_ how could you _not_ wanna see that?”

 

“It’s kinda inconsiderate, man,” Groot protested. “Not only to the rest of them, 'cause we didn't get their approval or anything, but to Peter and Gamora. I don’t think they’re ready to admit to their feelings yet. You can’t fight the current. Wuwei, man. Noninterference is key.”

 

“Okay, first off, I didn’t understand a single word of that hippie mumbo-jumbo that just came outta your mouth. And second, if they’re not ready now, do ya really think they’re ever going to be? They need some…light assistance,” Rocket reasoned, pleading his lost cause to the end.

 

“I think we should let them figure things out at their own pace,” Groot decided. “And besides, if one branch falls off the tree, it’s nothing, man. We gotta do this as a cohesive unit or we shouldn’t do it at all.”

 

Failing at his current tactic, Rocket switched angles. “Okay, if you won’t do it out of understanding of the perfection of this plan, can’t you just do me a solid?”

 

Groot shook his head resolutely. “They’re my friends, man, all of them. I don’t want to go behind their backs and sow the seeds of discord-“

 

“After all I’ve done for you?” Rocket pleaded, infusing his pleading look with as much overwrought emotion as he could muster.

 

Groot considered for a moment. “What do we do if it goes wrong?” He asked reluctantly, dropping the folksy metaphors of his everyday speech in a moment of conflict.

 

“They won’t even know it was planned,” Rocket reassured him. “They’ll probably just think it was an accident anyway.”

 

“And you’re sure this isn’t gonna tear apart the cast if something happens?”

 

“I’m sure, Groot,” Rocket said, an encouraging smile masking his smugness. “You know the plan, right?”

 

“I still don’t like it, but…fine,” Groot conceded. “Yeah. I remember.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Little to the right,” Gamora directed, nervously watching as Drax and Peter lowered a large wooden slab into place. “Now stand it up.”

 

“That good?” Peter inquired, stepping back to observe the placement of what would become the gate of their onstage Sicilian villa.

 

“Should be fine. Pillars next,” Gamora instructed. The pair, who’d been stuck with most of the heavy lifting, shuffled backstage obediently to fetch a set of the pillars that lined the set. The stage was abuzz with activity: other cast members set large wooden backdrops into place, arranged furniture, or placed foliage around the set. Gamora, standing aside to observe – Ms. Rael had placed her in charge of set building supervision, entrusting her with the precious director’s megaphone – rather enjoyed her job, liberally using and perhaps abusing her one-day-only megaphone privileges.

 

“Kraglin, that plant is supposed to be about six feet downstage,” she called.

 

“Whoever moved the stage right pillars needs to put them back – they were right the first time!”

 

“Ms. Rael said to use the square end table, not the round one!”

 

“Do you actually need to be carrying that crate or are you just trying to look busy so I won’t make you work?”

 

“Ayesha, I can see you trying on hats back there! Was that what I told you to do?”

 

“Hey, Gamora?” Peter called, cutting off her power-trip reverie.

 

“Yes, Peter?” she sighed.

 

“You gotta stop doing that with the megaphone. You’re going to lose your voice,” he pointed out.

 

“…thanks,” she said, biting back her startled initial reaction. She hated to admit that Peter was right about anything, but she couldn’t have that.  “Has anyone seen the swords?”

 

“So much for scaling it back,” Peter muttered.

 

“They’re in one of the storage closets,” Rocket informed her. “Not sure which, though. Want me to take over for a minute so you can go look for them?”

 

“Uh…sure,” Gamora said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously in his direction. “Any idea which one?”

 

“Nope. Gotta check them all, I guess,” he shrugged. “Take someone with you. It’ll go faster.”

 

“That’s…actually not a bad idea,” Gamora thought aloud. “Peter! I have another job for you!”

 

Peter made a point of walking over as slowly as he possibly could before finally asking, “yeeees…?”

 

“Come with me. We have to go look for some props,” she explained, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Peter nodded and followed.

 

The drama department’s three allotted storage closets were situated at the end of a long corridor of infrequently-used rooms that few people ever entered. It was nearly always darkened, every surface was coated in a layer of dust, and the whole hall smelled of the least-pleasant kind of disuse. That afternoon the hall was silent but for the sounds of Peter and Gamora’s footsteps; neither said anything.

 

 _I wonder what he’s thinking,_ Gamora thought.

 

 _Is she thinking about me?_ Peter wondered.

 

“We should probably start with the one on the left. 102,” Gamora said, if only to break the thick silence.

 

“I would have gone with the right one, but left it is. Got it,” Peter confirmed, nodding too forcefully.

 

Groot pressed himself into the crevice between storage closets 103 and 104, trying to silence his breathing as the two passed. He ran through the procedure in his mind again: they’d enter the hall – check. As soon as they started searching for the props, he’d have to figure out which closet they were searching. Rocket had deliberately stashed a cache of swords he knew they’d need to use in closet 102 to lure the unwitting lovebirds there – if nothing else, Groot continued to be in awe of his forward-thinking approach – and if they chose 102, as they had, he’d set a timer for two minutes and, as soon as it finished, nudge the door closed. If all went to plan, it wouldn’t latch; it would look as if a gust of air conditioning had blown it partway shut. And finally, he’d lock them in.

 

Overly-complex, perhaps, but Rocket spared no expense of effort when it came to the finer details of a plot. He had no interest in anything but a well-earned comedic payoff. Groot wasn’t fond of his best friend’s sneaking around, but he’d had a point – Rocket, who’d single-handedly prevented him from social annihilation within a week of beginning high school, had done more for him than he could ever repay.

 

Maybe, Groot thought, as he began the timer, he owed him a bit of underhandedness.

 

“I can’t see anything in here,” Peter commented. “Got your phone on you?”

 

“Way ahead of you,” Gamora replied, turning on her phone’s flashlight to illuminate a mound of props haphazardly piled on top of each other. They wouldn’t find the swords anytime soon, Groot knew – Rocket, in his obsessive need for perfection in the smallest details, had buried them deeply enough that they wouldn’t find them any faster, but close enough to the surface to make them look believably hidden.

 

“I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while,” Peter sighed.  
  
Groot tried to ignore the pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach at that. His phone vibrated in his hand, signaling the end of the two minutes. His hand hovered for a moment over the outside of the partly-closed door, in a tug-of-war with itself – to push or not to push?

 

Inhaling, he gave the door a gentle shove. Neither Gamora nor Peter noticed any change. The setup had gone exactly as planned. All he had to do –

 

 _I shouldn’t,_ he thought.

 

 _I have to,_ he thought seconds later.

 

 _This is cruel,_ his brain protested.

 

 _You owe it to Rocket,_ it countered.

 

“What was that?” Gamora asked, whipping around to find the door latched.

 

“Must’ve been the AC or someth-“

 

Peter never finished his sentence.

  
Both fell silent as the heard the telltale click of a turning lock.  

 

The initial shock wore off in a moment, and Peter couldn't resist a comment. 

"I told you we should have looked in the right closet first." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, CLIFFHANGER! *jazzhands* (lol not that much of one but STILL.) Yeah, this one's going to have some nasty, nasty fallout.
> 
> 1/3 through! This and the next chapter, which will be - as the semi-cliffhanger indicates - a further explanation of what goes down in that closet (it will definitely not be making out, sorry y'all) are sort of the "mid-season finale," if you will, setting up the next stage of the plot. 
> 
> Near-future chapters are likely going to focus on A) Peter and Gamora continuing to grapple with their feelings for each other, which they can no longer ignore, and B) the fallout between Rocket and Groot, and to some extent between both of them and the rest of the cast, after this whole debacle. And this will hopefully, if I'm feeling merciful, all end in a typical Guardians "come together for the greater good" moment. Hopefully...
> 
> But who knows? ;)


	6. Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora may or may not have seen this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the most anticlimactic use of the "locked in a closet together" trope you will ever read. Wanted a makeout session? Look elsewhere. If you like heart-to-hearts, though...
> 
>  
> 
> Again, twenty points to the first person who can figure out the "easter egg" I slipped in here! This one's from the original GotG.

“Accident, or…?”

 

“That’s probably what whoever did this wants us to think,” Gamora huffed. Peter glanced at her skeptically. “Let’s just say I’m a skilled eavesdropper.” 

 

“Wait, this was  _planned?”_ Peter asked incredulously. “Why would anyone want to do that…?”

 

“Half the cast is trying to set us up,” Gamora explained. “And two of them decided to deviate from the other group’s plan and lock us in here.”

 

“Who, and what did they expect this to accomplish?” Peter asked, disgust and amusement mingling in his tone.

 

“I think they just thought it would be funny. Well, actually…” She trailed off.

 

“Actually what?”

 

“One of them wanted nothing to do with it. I thought that was probably worth noting,” Gamora said.

 

“Seriously, who is it?” Peter pressed. “And wait, why’d you go along with it if you knew how it would end?”

 

Gamora hadn’t wanted to have to explain this, both literally and figuratively backed against a wall. But a part of her wanted to have the words forced from her mouth – she knew she wouldn’t say them any other way. Taking a shaky breath, she began, “you probably talked to my sister a few days ago about me.”

 

“I did. And?”

 

“I told her she was supposed to figure out how you felt about me,” Gamora admitted. “But she didn’t stick to the plan.”

 

“And instead, she told me you had feelings for me?” Peter asked, concealing his surprise admirably.

 

Gamora nodded. “I didn’t want her to do that. But once she did, and I knew it was out there, I guess the idea of being locked in a closet with you didn’t seem so bad. So when I heard them planning this…I kind of just went along with it.”

 

“That’s…oddly sweet of you,” Peter said. “But _why?_ Were you expecting me to kiss you or something?”

 

“No, that’s not it at all,” she muttered.

  
“Then why would you ever want to be locked in a storage closet with me?” Peter asked, still totally unaware of her meaning.

 

“I guess I knew I’d never be able to admit that Nebula was right if I wasn’t forced to,” Gamora confessed.

  
“So you _do_ like me?” Peter asked, a distinct note of triumph audible in his voice.

 

“You could say that,” Gamora sighed. “Sorry for making this awkward. I know it’s unprofessional-“

 

“I never actually hated you,” Peter blurted out. “I heard about you when I was thinking about auditioning, and you seemed cool, so I sat next to you at auditions, and you were amazing, and I wanted to talk to you but you kinda shut me down, and you were really uptight anyway, so I went along with your whole hating-each-other act, and then Nebula told me you liked me and I thought my head was going to explode, and-“

 

“Need a minute?” Gamora asked, resisting an urge to laugh. There was something irresistibly endearing about Peter’s nervous rambling.

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Peter muttered. “I didn’t mean to get all gushy on you.”

 

“It’s okay. And…I guess this is too,” Gamora said.

 

“Being locked in?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, would we ever have admitted all of this under normal circumstances?” Gamora mused.

 

“Wait.” Peter’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Did we just get Beatrice and Benedick’ed?”

 

“ _What?”_ Gamora spat, feigning uppity disgust.

 

“They got tricked into confessing that they liked each other, right?” Peter explained.

 

“Oh.” Gamora couldn’t help but smile at that. “While that would be comedically perfect, I doubt Rocket thought this through that much.”

 

“So it was _Rocket?”_ Peter shook his head. “Should have known. Who was the other person, Groot?”

 

“Mm-hm,” Gamora answered absentmindedly, digging through the pile of props. “We’re going to have to yell at them later. Oh, here’s one of the swords we were looking for.”

“So how long are we gonna stay in here, pretending we don’t have cell service?” Peter asked.

 

“We should probably go back before anyone starts to suspect something,” Gamora sighed, pulling out her phone to make a call.

 

“Mantis, we got locked in storage closet 102. Can you get the key from Ms. Rael and come get us out? And don’t tell anyone.”

 

* * *

 

 

 Gamora cornered Rocket as soon as she laid eyes on him.

 

“You’re gonna have to answer for that,” she snapped, roughly taking one of his bony shoulders.

  
“Hey, cool it a little,” Peter protested, intervening for a visibly grateful Rocket. “But _dude_! What were you _thinking_?”

 

“That it would be hilarious to lock you two in a closet? Geez, you two take the fun out of _everything!_ ” Rocket complained, outwardly struggling to maintain his false nonchalance. “…wait, how’d you know it was me?”

 

“You really think I wouldn’t figure that out?” Gamora asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Well, yeah, I kinda thought you wouldn’t.” Rocket shrugged. “What’d you get up to in there?”

 

“A heartfelt conversation about feelings,” Peter announced cheekily.

 

“Disgusting,” Rocket muttered, walking off. Gamora stopped him again.

 

“You can’t just go around locking people in closets, let along manipulating people into going along with your harebrained schemes against their will!”

 

“Oh, but I can,” Rocket replied, losing his bravado.

 

“’Can’ doesn’t always mean ‘should’,” Peter said. “Don’t pull that again.”

 

“Don’t pull what again?” Drax asked, inopportunely walking by.

 

“Nothing,” all three said simultaneously.

 

“He locked them in a closet, man,” Groot said, shaking his head as he passed through.

 

“I thought we agreed not to do that!” Drax shouted, drawing the attention of everyone onstage.

 

“You locked them in that closet as much as I did!” Rocket protested.

 

“Yeah, because _you_ emotionally manipulated me,” Groot countered. “I didn’t want to do it!”

 

“But you still did!”

 

“Okay, _enough!”_

 

Every eye in the place swiveled to Gamora, who was by that point far too annoyed with the situation to even pretend to keep her cool.

 

“Rocket, you’re at fault here. Groot, what you did was wrong, and you’re only getting off easy because Rocket is guiltier than you are, but I understand that it wasn’t voluntary. Drax and everyone else who was involved in this matchmaking plot, I’m not sure what you were thinking, and this is going to be awkward for all of us, but since you didn’t do anything, I can’t say you did anything wrong. Okay? Now get back to work.”

 

The cast shuffled off silently, most staring at the ground while Ayesha held her chin self-righteously aloft.

 

“This is going to take a while to clean up,” Gamora sighed. “Should we tell Ms. Rael?”

 

“No.” Peter shook his head vigorously. “No way. Rocket’s the only one here who really deserves to be punished, and I’m pretty sure the fallout with Groot, not to mention everyone else who’s mad that he didn’t stick to their plan, is enough.”

 

“Always one to take the high road,” Gamora huffed.

 

“Hey, someone’s got to!” Peter protested.

 

“I never said I didn’t like that.”

 

Gamora walked off with an over-satisfied smirk, trying not to let out an undignified snort at the thought of Peter gawking like a fish as she retreated.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm doing easter eggs now, and I may have promised you rankings...so...
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 20   
> 2\.   
> 3\.   
> 4\.   
> 5\. 
> 
> Want your name on that leaderboard? No? This is a lame gag? Oh well. It's fun, so I'll do it anyway :)


	7. Men Were Deceivers Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's difficult to put on a good play when its cast members are at each other's throats...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, fallout! This is a SUPER dialogue-heavy one. Sorry 'bout that. It felt right at this point in the story. 
> 
> NOTE: The scene they're rehearsing in this is Hero and Claudio's wedding (Act 4, Scene 1).

Gamora walked into the theater to the sound of a heated argument and let out a long sigh as she approached the scene of the disagreement. _This better not be about the closet incident._

“I can’t believe y’all did that,” she heard Kraglin admonish. _Well, there goes that._

 

“You shouldn’t have forced Groot to do it if he thought it was wrong,” Mantis followed up, glaring at Rocket as menacingly as she knew how (which was, admittedly, not all that intimidating).

 

“ _Thank_ you, Mantis,” Groot said, gesturing agitatedly at nothing in particularly.

 

“Hey, if you didn’t wanna do it, you could have just said no,” Rocket defended himself.

 

“You wouldn’t have listened if I did,” Groot countered.

 

“That is true,” Rocket admitted. “But-“

 

“You played with my head, man,” Groot shot back. “You clearly weren’t gonna let me say no.”

 

“That is also true, but-“

 

“What is _wrong_ with you people?” Gamora cut in. “Everybody! _Enough!”_

“You’re the one who got locked in a closet,” Drax told her. “Why are you defending them?”

 

“I’m not,” Gamora said. “I’m trying to get _all of you_ to _shut up_ so we can actually work on this play! Do any of you realize how much this means to” – she paused, taking a breath – “how much this play means to some of us? And did _any_ of you think about that, and how this would affect it, before you all – and yes, it was _all of you_ , not just Rocket and Groot – decided to go meddling in my and Peters’ love lives? I _really_ doubt you did!”

 

“Easy, Gamora,” Peter warned, walking up behind her. She jumped slightly at the sensation of touch as he placed a hand on her shoulder, at once warning and reassuring.  

 

“W-where’d you come from?” She muttered, wringing her clammy hands and trying not to let her discomfort show. Peter courteously ignored her obvious tension.

 

“She has a point, guys,” he said. “It wasn’t your place to try to make us date or whatever, and you certainly shouldn’t be bashing Rocket and Groot for doing the _exact same thing_ you were already planning on doing later in a different way.”

 

Rocket sneered. “I agree that we’re not the only guilty ones here – if we can even be called guilty at all – but since when are _you_ the voice of reason around here?”

 

“Uh, since the entire cast of this play went totally insane and made your normal voice of reason” – he glanced at Gamora – “an emotional mess?”

 

“ _Excuse_ me?”

 

“Your fuse is about an inch long right now. Don’t even try pretending you’re not about to snap someone’s neck,” Peter said.

 

“True,” Gamora conceded. “Yeah, uh…I’m not sure where Ms. Rael is, but when she gets here, you all had better put this aside and be completely ready to work. Okay?”

 

A few muffled responses filtered through the morose cluster as the cast walked off.

 

“I still think we should tell her,” Gamora sighed.

 

“Do we really want this getting any messier than it already is?” Peter asked. “I don’t think getting an adult involved is going to fix this. They have to work this out among themselves, on their own terms, or they never will.”

 

“When did you get so level-headed?” Gamora muttered.

 

“When I had no choice,” Peter replied, looking off to nowhere in particular.

 

* * *

 

  

“Jacob, you’re a friar. You need to speak with formality,” Ms. Rael called. He shook his head – anyone near him could hear him mutter “it’s _Taserface”_ to himself – but complied.

 

“You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?” He asked stiffly. Ms. Rael nodded in approval.

 

“No,” read Drax’s Claudio, in true Drax form: as short as was possible.

 

“To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her,” Rocket, as Leonato, read with a rather character-inaccurate tone of disgust.

 

“Rocket, you sound like you’d rather be dead than here. Would it kill you to have a little more wit?” Ms. Rael directed.

 

“ _To be married to her,_ ” Rocket said through gritted teeth. “ _Friar, you come to marry her.”_

Jacob-Taserface raised an eyebrow at Rocket’s odd delivery but continued. “Lady, come you hither to be married to this count?”

“This is a mess,” Gamora whispered in a panic to Peter, standing behind her in the background of the scene.

 

“Keep it cool, okay?” He entreated, giving her one of the soft, discreet smiles she hated admitting she loved. She took a gulp of air and nodded slightly.

 

“I do,” Mantis, reading for Hero, recited, looking for all the world like she was about to burst into tears.

 

“If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, charge you on your souls to utter it,” Taserface announced with his now-trademark stiffness. Ms. Rael beamed in approval.

 

“Know you any, Hero?” Drax asked.

 

“None, my lord,” Mantis responded, still seemingly on the verge of breaking down sobbing.

 

“Mantis, why are you so upset? They haven’t besmirched your honor yet!” Ms. Rael pointed out.

 

“Sorry,” Mantis muttered, staring at the ground.

 

 _Poor girl,_ Gamora thought in a rare moment of sympathy. _I forgot how much she hates being yelled at. She probably thought she was doing something nice._

 _  
_ “Know you any, count?” Taserface asked.

 

“I dare make his answer – none,” Rocket practically spat, concentrating every ounce of vitriol in his tiny frame into his lines.

 

“Rocket, what is going on with you? Leonato isn’t nearly that aggressive in this scene,” Ms. Rael said. He said nothing.

 

“O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!” Drax recited mechanically.

 

“More emotion, Drax! You’ve just found out that the love of your life is cheating on you and you sound like a robot,” Ms. Rael critiqued.

 

It took every bit of Gamora’s willpower not to break down in an utter panic, watching the play she wanted so desperately to succeed fall apart in the hands of the members of a cast that, as of now, wanted nothing to do with each other.

 

“This, too, shall pass.”

“Huh?” Gamora startled, drawing a look from Ms. Rael.

 

“I said ‘this, too, shall pass,’” Peter repeated. “They’re not going to stay mad at each other forever. Trust me.”

 

“If you say so,” she replied weakly, only hoping he had an idea what he was talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, look for the movie easter egg for 20 points ! Leaderboard for easter egg finding so far: 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 40  
> 2.  
> 3.  
> 4.  
> 5\. 
> 
> Those spots are BEGGING to be filled ;)


	8. Merry as the Day Is Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast of Much Ado takes a moment to put itself back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, and it deviates so far from the tone of the last chapter that it's probably incomprehensible, but I've all but given up on trying to make this some sort of high art and I'm just having fun with it, so...I don't care. 
> 
> The game that the cast plays in this chapter, Paranoia, was a standby in my school's drama department. The questions were a bit...juicier...then than they are here (I'm trying to keep the objectionable content to a minimum), but the rules and format are the same. We'd always play it backstage or in the foyer when we had extra time, and it was a much-beloved tradition. Hopefully my explanation of such is understandable enough to follow this chapter. 
> 
> And, as always, the Easter egg hunt continues! 30 points for today's because it's a bit harder than the last two.

Watery sunlight filtered through the bay windows of the theater’s foyer, weakly illuminating the faces of the cast members seated in a circle on its plush-carpeted floor. They looked like anything but the torn-apart combatants they’d been only days before. Gamora smiled to herself. There was nothing like the promise of Paranoia to lift spirits and break down enmity.

 

“The person next to you will privately ask you a question, anything they like, and you have to answer, loud enough for everyone to hear, with the name of a person in this room,” she instructed. “Then you’ll flip a coin. If it lands heads, the person reveals the question that went with your answer. If not, it stays between you.”

 

“I want to start!” Mantis volunteered, enthusiastically raising her hand.

 

“Of course,” Gamora consented. Mantis promptly turned to Rocket, sitting beside her, and whispered a question to which he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

 

“Um, ew, I hate compliments, but if I gotta pick, prob’ly Gamora,” he said distastefully. Mantis smiled and flung a quarter into the air.

 

“That’s not how you flip a coin,” Ayesha scoffed.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Mantis muttered, passing the coin to Rocket for more effective flipping.

 

“Heads,” he declared morosely.

 

“The question was ‘who is the best actor in this room?’” Mantis explained. Gamora shook her head fondly – _of course he hated that one._

“All right, my turn now!” Rocket crowed, turning to question Groot.

 

“Ayesha,” Groot answered decisively. Rocket smirked, flipping the quarter again.

 

“Tails,” he sighed. “Ugh.” Ayesha, knowing she’d likely been spared a public insult, looked smugly grateful. “Your turn, Groot.”

 

“Uhh…” Groot paused to think. “Okay, got it.” He whispered something to Drax, who attempted not to laugh.

 

“How would I know who in this circle is the best kisser? I have never kissed any of them,” he puzzled.

 

“ _Dude!”_ Peter admonished, nearly laughing himself to tears. “That’s not how this game works!”

 

“Don’t reveal the question,” Gamora reminded him. “Groot, another?”

 

“Um…Peter,” Drax answered to the follow-up. “He seems like a slovenly fool.”

 

“First of all, missing the point again, and second of all, _hey!”_ Peter protested. “I am _not!”_

Groot flipped the coin, landing on heads with a smug grin none of the others knew their resident mantra-spouting peace-lover had in him. “I asked who would make the worst roommate,” he announced.

 

“I would make an _excellent_ roommate,” Peter said. “My music taste is great! I’d buy the best snacks-“

 

“You’d also leave piles of dirty clothes everywhere and stay up all night, I’m sure,” Gamora teased. “I’m with Drax on that one.” Peter looked rather crestfallen.

 

“Do I ask Jacob a question now?” Drax asked.

 

“It’s Taserface. And I’m not playing.”

 

“Okay, then move so I can ask someone who is,” Drax ordered.

 

Taserface glared at him. “No.”

 

“Jac-I mean, Taserface, just move,” Gamora sighed. “We’re never going to finish a full round before people get picked up if we don’t move this along.”

 

“Fine,” Taserface scoffed, vacating his spot to allow another – Ronan, sulky and taciturn portrayer of the play’s antagonist, Don John – to take it; he promptly also left the circle to avoid playing. Kraglin, finally, took his place and stayed. Drax leaned in to whisper (the cast kindly ignored the fact that they could all clearly hear his “whispering”) his question; Kraglin shook his head in disgust.

 

“Uh…Rocket,” he answered. “Not like I got any better options.” He flipped the coin – tails.

 

“May I tell my question anyway?” Drax asked.

 

“That kinda defeats the purpose,” Rocket pointed out.

  
“You people show far too much restraint,” Drax complained, nevertheless relenting. Kraglin asked Peter his question, one he evidently didn’t need any time to think about.

 

“Oh, definitely Gamora, no question,” he answered, casually flipping the quarter. It landed heads, and Kraglin chuckled.

 

“I asked who he’d pick if he had to choose one of us to be handcuffed to for the rest of his life,” he said, utterly pleased with himself.

 

“Uh…thank you?” Gamora looked an odd combination of disconcerted and flattered. “And no, Rocket, that isn’t an excuse to go trying that on us.” She fixed him with her most convincing glare.

  
“Buzzkill,” he muttered.

 

“Oh, is it my turn?” Peter asked, feigning surprise. “I need a minute-nope, just kidding! I’ve been ready since the get-go-“

 

“Cut the theatrics, Quill,” Rocket said.

 

Peter sighed dramatically. “ _Fine,_ ” he agreed. He turned to Gamora, who rolled her eyes at the question but couldn’t hold back the flush rising in her cheeks.

 

“Uh…you, I guess,” she answered, staring at her lap.

 

“Aww, really?” Peter, sounding genuinely touched, replied. “That’s” – he flipped the quarter – “sweet of you.”

 

“I am not sweet,” Gamora protested.

 

“Are too. Heads,” Peter announced. “I asked her who she’d date if she had to choose someone in this room.”  

 

“Can you say ‘generic’?” Rocket mocked. “Try coming up with some _original_ questions, Quill!”

 

“He is merely trying to distract us from the fact that this heated romantic exchange makes him uncomfortable,” Drax explained.

 

“Who died and made you a telepath?” Rocket spat.

 

“Why would somebody’s death result in my gaining telepathic powers?” Drax wondered.

 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Peter sighed. “And what? You don’t _get_ to be uncomfortable with that when you’re the one who tried to  _lock us in a closet_ so we’d get together, _dude.”_

“He has a point, man,” Groot cut in. “We’ve all gotta accept responsibility for our actions and-“

 

“Okay, enough about that. Everyone pretend they didn’t heard me say I’d date Peter,” Gamora said, face flushing furiously. “As far as all of you know, I never said that, and we still hate each other. Okay?”

“You cannot hide forever, Gamora,” Mantis said, her huge black eyes full of concern. It was a rather disarming look, Gamora thought; had the sentiment she’d been expressing been any less noxious to her, she may well have given in.

 

“No, but I can hide until I’m out of sight,” she muttered.

 

“That made no sense,” Rocket said, staring off into space in a clear effort to dodge the discomfort of the situation.

 

He was right – it didn’t, to any of them. Not to Gamora, who’d been trying to deflect Mantis’ compelling argument, nor to Peter, who had only ever wanted her to come out of hiding; not to Mantis, who’d earnestly believed that what she’d said was true, nor to Drax, over whose head the figure of speech flew; not to Rocket, who’d spent a lifetime avoiding love and didn’t intend to stop now, nor to Groot, despite his propensity for flowery metaphor. A thousand silent voices seemed to beg the same question.

 

_You love each other. Why are you still hiding?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Easter Egg Hunt point rankings! 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 60   
> 2\.   
> 3\.   
> 4\.   
> 5\. 
> 
> This one may or may not be very difficult, as it's a rather drastic rewording of an iconic line. Good luck!


	9. Is That Not Strange?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If time wears away resolve, then what is left to hold back unwanted feelings?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I was NOT planning on having another sister-chat chapter (there are so many of these in my other high school AU that it is becoming problematic), but it sort of just happened. Enjoy!
> 
> Though this has a lot in common with my other AU, in this one, the actual ship stuff shares more of its focus with the friendships between the other Guardians and the play itself. That's why the relationship development is much slower: first, because there are no preexisting feelings between Peter and Gamora, and second, because the other parts of this story need time, too. I promise they will get together eventually, but not yet! Slow burn is always fun. :)

“Costume fittings are tomorrow,” Gamora remarked to the wall, or perhaps the air – Nebula was uncertain whom she addressed.

 

“You talking to me or just saying stuff?” Nebula asked, clearing her bleary eyes. She’d nearly drifted off.

 

“If you’re awake, I guess I’m talking to you,” Gamora sighed, wrapping her arms around her knees. In the midnight gloom, she was no more than a dark silhouette outlined against the far wall of their shared bedroom.

 

“And this means what?” Nebula prompted.

 

“I don’t know, it just seemed significant somehow.” She pulled aside the gauzy curtains covering the window beside her bed.

 

“Why are you opening the curtains?” Nebula questioned, displeased. She’d wanted a good night of sleep for once, but her sister seemed bent on making that all but impossible.

  
“Sometimes I’ll look at the stars when I need to think,” Gamora told her, gazing off into the night sky. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s…kind of weird.”

 

“Not at all,” Nebula said. “You can see them well tonight.”

 

“I’m worried about the play.”

 

“You always are.”

 

“No, more than normal. And not in the same way,” Gamora confessed. “It’s…worse. Did I tell you that Rocket locked Peter and I in a closet a few weeks ago?”

 

“No, but that’s hilarious,” Nebula remarked, so utterly without mirth that Gamora would have though her tone sarcastic if she was less lacking in wit.

 

“It was irritating. Add that to the fact that the _rest_ of the cast was planning to set us up some other way later on, so they weren’t happy that Rocket went off of the plan, and you’ve got them all at each other’s throats,” Gamora sighed.

 

“And they can’t put that aside for the sake of the play?” Nebula asked. “Understandable. I’d have slit his throat. Why didn’t you?”

 

“Peter thought getting worked up and retaliating would make it worse. I guess he was right.”

 

“Since when are you taking orders from Quill?” Nebula said, disgusted.

 

“I’m not, but…” Gamora shook her head, unable to believe what she was thinking. “He’s more level-headed sometimes, when I can’t be. I feel like I can trust him to make sure things don’t fall apart.”

 

“I’ve never met _that_ Quill. I’ve only ever met the one who speaks only in jokes to hide his deep-seated psychological trauma,” Nebula thought aloud. “It’s annoying.”

 

“Aside from the fact that I don’t know when you started talking like a textbook and it scares me, I’m sure it is,” Gamora agreed. “But here…he doesn’t do that. It’s like he’s finally found something worth genuinely caring about.”

 

“Yeah. You.”

 

“What do you mean, me?” Gamora asked, feigning ignorance. “I don’t follow.”

 

“Yes, you do,” Nebula sighed. “Sure, he loves acting and all, and he wants this play to go well almost as badly as you do. But it isn’t just that. Peter isn’t being this better version of himself because he’s passionate about Shakespeare or whatever. It’s because of you.”

 

“No, it isn’t,” Gamora deflected. “He may like me, but it isn’t anything that dramatic. I think it’s just that he’s finally found something he’s good at.”

 

“It’s you,” Nebula insisted. “And I know you feel the same way. You need to tell him-“

 

“We kind of had a…discussion…in the closet,” Gamora admitted. “We…confessed some things.”

 

“Wait, he _knows you like him?!?”_ Nebula spat.

 

“ _Shh!_ You’re going to wake everyone up! And yes, he does.”

 

“And nothing is happening? _Seriously?”_

“I don’t think either of us thought it was the right time for a relationship,” Gamora said, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“He’s in love with you,” Nebula blurted out.

 

“Nebula, _no,”_ Gamora pleaded. “It’s nothing like that. It can’t be-“

 

“Sleep on it,” Nebula replied, turning and pulling her comforter up to keep out her sister’s questions.

 

Gamora stared up at the stars and wished, for the umpteenth time this week, that she knew where to go from there.

 

* * *

 

 

“Typically, Benedick’s costume is, like, a white military jacket,” the younger girl told Peter, taking measurement after measurement. “So I think I’m gonna-“

 

“Sounds great,” Peter sighed, weary of standing in place and being prodded and rather wishing for a chair. “Can I sit down?”

 

“Almost done,” the girl told him, again assaulting him with her measuring tape.

  
“How many measurements do you need to make a costume?” he asked.

 

“Lots” was all she said in reply. He had to make a concerted effort to stifle a groan.  
  
“All done!” the dressmaker announced, withdrawing the dreaded measuring tape. “Thanks for being so patient. I know its-“

 

“Everything going all right in here?” a familiar voice cut in. Peter turned to the door.

 

His mouth hung agape for a moment at the sight that greeted him. Gamora stood in the doorway in the pinned-up forebear of what would become her costume, a full-skirted green gown with a magnificently flattering corseted bodice.

 

“Are…you…okay?” Gamora asked haltingly, noticing his staring. He quickly snapped himself out of it.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Nice outfit,” Peter said with unconvincing nonchalance.

 

“Thanks,” Gamora replied flatly. “A girl wore this a few years ago in some other Shakespeare production and they thought it would be better to alter it for me than make a new one.”

 

“As far as hand-me-downs go, it’s not bad,” Peter commented. “It’ll look great onstage.”

 

Gamora wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, a shy person, but the furtive glance she made at her feet at that was almost timid. “Thank you.”

 

“Am I the last one finished?” Peter asked.

 

“Almost. Mantis is just finishing up, then we’ll run as much of Act 3 as we can get through before five,” Gamora replied, decidedly back in her element. “Also, I heard a lot of screaming coming from this dressing room a while back. What was that about?”

 

Peter grinned. “Oh, that was just Drax complaining about how the dressmaker had better make him something comfortable because he’s ‘sensitive,’” he explained. “Gotta love Drax, huh?”

 

“When he’s not reading his lines like an automaton?” Gamora remarked.

 

“Did you just make a joke?” Peter gasped in exaggerated surprise. “I thought I’d never see the day!”

 

“It seems that I did,” Gamora replied, tilting her head vaguely in his direction with a soft smile. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

 

“I’m…glad you’re loosening up,” Peter said, trying not to let his voice crack. Her smile, that sidelong glance – it disarmed him every time.

 

“No promises, Quill,” Gamora countered, smiling in earnest now. “I’ve got a cast to whip into shape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our reigning easter egg champion, @LegoTea, retains the leaderboard with sixty points. Since we finally have another participant, @marcisprinkles, I'll give some participation points: 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 60  
> 2\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 3.  
> 4.  
> 5.


	10. Hands Against Our Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy does strange things to a person's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is VERY similar to a certain chapter of my last AU. If you've read that (looking at you @LegoTea and/or @sharkinterviewee), you'll know it when you see it. Wink. 
> 
> NOTE: the Wanda (understudy) that Peter hits on, somewhat, here is, as you probably guessed, Wanda Maximoff. Why bring in a random MCU character when the rest of them are all Guardians-verse, you ask? Well, since GOTG has a finite number of characters, I figured it would be best if the core cast members were Guardians-verse, but the rest could be other members of the MCU for the sake of, well, having enough characters to fill all the necessary roles. And since Wanda is my favorite outside MCU character, I threw her into the mix for fun.

“Peter, I don’t care if you were flirting with her or not,” Gamora sighed, running a hand through her hair in exasperation.

 

“Do you?” Peter asked. “You seemed a _lit_ -tle prickly when we were talking to each other back there. And let’s not talk about how you reacted later…” 

 

“If you want to hit on Wanda, go ahead,” Gamora said. “Your love life isn’t my business.”

 

“Okay, then,” Peter conceded. “But, for the record, I’m definitely not into her. I was _encouraging_ her to keep acting because it seemed like she might feel unimportant _._ I though you _liked_ supportive guys!”

 

“Good to know, and yeah, that was nice of you,” Gamora replied. “And besides, I don’t care.”  

 

She didn’t want to think about earlier; there was nothing good to be gained from that. Perhaps that was precisely why she couldn’t get it off her mind.

 

 

TWO HOURS EARLIER

 

“Hey, Peter,” the shy redhead piped up as he walked past.

 

“Hey…” Peter replied, pausing at the realization that he didn’t know her name.

 

“Wanda,” she said, extending her hand. “You’re a fantastic Benedick! Is this really your first play?”

  
Peter smirked. “Yeah, guess I just got the gift,” he said airily. “You in crew?”

 

“No, I’m Gamora’s understudy,” Wanda explained. “I just have to be here in case someone’s absent, when I’d have to read for their parts.”

 

“Well, keep it up,” Peter said, dropping his eyes to hers. “They couldn’t have found a more gorgeous understudy anywhere.”

 

Wanda beamed, cheeks reddening slightly at the handsome near-stranger’s praise. “Thank you so much! Do you really think…”

 

“’Course. Any time, kid,” Peter replied, walking off to join Gamora for an upcoming scene. She stood glowering in a dark corner of the wings.

 

“I see you’re quite friendly with my understudy,” she noted with barely-restrained bitterness.

“Yeah, she’s a nice girl. Got a problem with that?” Peter asked.

 

Gamora pulled her reeling head together for the second she needed to respond. “No, of course not,” she replied coolly. “We’re about to run the confession scene. You knew that, right?”

 

“Of course I knew that,” Peter said, flipping frantically through his script. “I’m always prepared.”

 

“Amusing,” Gamora deadpanned. She tried to forget her bristling annoyance at Peter’s flirtatiousness as the two waited in silence for their cue, tried not to let it affect her performance.

 

 _Jealousy is a good look on no one,_ she reminded herself as they stepped on, and continued to repeat, as many times as it took to beat the sentiment firmly into her brain, until she had to speak.

 

“Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?” asked Peter.

 

“I answer to that name. What is your will?” she replied with an appropriate hint of feigned nervousness, trying to keep the curtness from her voice. _Not the time,_ she told herself.

 

“Do not you love me?” Peter replied, his tone almost biting. It took a moment for Gamora to remember that he was supposed to respond this way; she wondered at first if he’d been upset.

 

 _You’re not Gamora and Peter anymore,_ she reminded herself. _Nothing you say up here has anything to do with what happened backstage._

**“** Why, _no_ ; no more than reason,” she shot back with a scandalized air.

**“** Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have been deceived; they swore you did,” Peter insisted, furiously confused or perhaps confusedly furious.

 

 **“** Do not you love _me?_ _”_ Gamora asked.

 

 **“** Troth, no; no more than _reason_ _,”_ he shot back, mocking her reply to the sort of effect Gamora almost wished he couldn’t produce. _It’s._ so _much harder to make myself believe I can’t stand him when he’s not onstage…_

_“_ Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula are much deceived; for they did swear you did,” Gamora spat. She had to admit that the scene’s mocking tone was painfully apropos.

**“** They swore that you were almost sick for me!” Peter spat, entirely offended.

**“** They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me!” Gamora countered, just as much so.

**“** 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?” Peter asked, slight disappointment slipping from behind his haughty disgust.

 

 **“** No, truly, but in friendly recompense,” Gamora insisted.

 

“Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman,” Rocket cut in, with a grin that showed that he, Rocket – and not Leonato – was enjoying this far too much.

**“** And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, for here's a paper written in his hand, a halting sonnet of his own pure brain, fashion'd to Beatrice,” Drax announced with what was supposed to be triumphant mirth but sounded more like his usual mode of clueless self-congratulation as he handed a slip of paper to an astonished Gamora.

 

“And here's another, writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket,containing her affection unto Benedick,” Mantis added, radiating an innocent joy both her character’s and her own and slipping another paper to Peter.

 

“A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts,” Peter announced, smugly satisfied even in his humiliation. “Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.”

**“** I would not deny you,” Gamora replied with a small but visible sideways-glancing smile, “but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.”

 

 _Okay, be ready,_ she told herself. She’d stage-kissed Peter (hands on the face could conceal the fact that characters whose scripts decreed they kiss weren’t actually locking lips) what felt like a thousand times, but now it was even more awkward than ever, becoming more troublesome as her covert but entirely present affection for Peter grew.

 

Sometimes she’d catch herself wishing it wasn’t movie magic.

 

 **“** Peace! I will stop your mouth,” Peter lead in, reaching to take her face in his hands.

 

 _Just do it,_ Gamora told herself.

 

She took his hands before they reached her face. Gamra didn't think in that moment - not of the way this would change everything, not of the insanity of it, not of what everyone would say. For once, Gamora wanted nothing more than to let go and let her weaker half win out. For once, she felt ready to call herself _in love_. Maybe it was the jealousy, seeing him with another; maybe it was the utterly irresistible look he'd given her. She didn't know, and for once, she didn't need to. With a flirtatious look she didn’t even know she was capable of producing, placed them around her neck. Peter’s eyes widened at the contact, but he caught on.

 

“You wanna…” he whispered, sounding almost as if he were in shock.

 

“You said you were going to stop my mouth,” Gamora said, low enough that only the two could hear, persuasive enough that he couldn't resist. “Do it.”

 

Their lips met in earnest this time, and for a moment a dead silence fell over the group onstage, only broken when Ms. Rael, silent the entire scene, cut in.

 

“When did _this_ happen?”

 

Gamora preferred not to let that sink in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This easter egg should be a bit easier than the previous few. Standings: 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 60  
> 2\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 3.  
> 4.  
> 5.


	11. The Taker Runs Presently Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The production draws to a close, and unanswered questions can't go unaddressed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am FANTASTIC at writing major events that are never addressed in later chapters despite their importance. Yeet! (@ the kiss, oops.) Also, I feel like there's no way an entire production could go by without the director (Ms. Rael) realizing that the entire cast was at each other's throats for weeks, so here we've got a closet incident reveal, which affects...absolutely none of the plot of this chapter. Oops. 
> 
>  
> 
> Easter egg is another semi-easy one.

“One would have to be blind not to see how dedicated you are to the drama department, Gamora,” Ms. Rael began.

_What’s the catch?_ Gamora couldn’t help but think.

 

“Thank you,” she said blankly, not yet knowing her superior’s intentions well enough to discern how best to present herself.

 

“You’re welcome, but I’m worried about you,” Ms. Rael continued. _OH. There it is._

“May I ask why?” Gamora asked measuredly. _Keep it cool and professional until you can get a better read on her._

“Not even mentioning that strange deviance from my explicit instructions last week,” Ms. Rael replied, convincingly pretending not to notice Gamora’s scarlet flush at the reference to her impulsively botched stage kiss, “I’ve noticed a lot of friction in the cast that I simply do not understand. I’m fairly certain something is going on that I don’t know about, and that’s why I called you.”

 

“There have been a few – incidents, but it was nothing of consequence,” Gamora replied shakily, begging herself not to let the ridiculous matchmaking follies of the past weeks come pouring out.

 

“I know you care far too much about this play to let anything jeopardize it,” Ms. Rael said, half-stating, half-warning.

 

“Of course.” Gamora nodded. “I’d never let anything-“

 

“Tell me what happened or I’ll find out some other way.”

 

“A few of the cast members thought that Peter and I should be romantically involved and…took measures…to make that happen,” she explained haltingly, trying only to give the barest necessary details.

 

Ms. Rael leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “How?”

 

“Well, most of them were going to set us up somehow, but before they could even make a plan, R-“ she stopped herself – “one of them locked us in a closet, and roped his best friend into helping him.”

 

“Rocket and Groot, no?” Ms. Rael asked. “I’d expect as much.”

 

“…Yes,” Gamora admitted reluctantly.

 

“And there’s been fallout?” Ms. Rael continued.

 

“Yes, both between Rocket and Groot, and between those two and the rest of the people who wanted to set us up but couldn’t,” Gamora said, growing less anxious as she realized how prudent it would have been to have this conversation several weeks earlier.

 

“And?” Ms. Rael asked, not finished yet.

 

“Nothing more. That’s-“

 

“You and Peter. They locked you in a closet. What now?”

 

“Nothing!” Gamora sputtered, red rising in her cheeks again. “Nothing at all. Just friends!”

 

“I highly doubt that _friends_ would switch stage kisses for real ones,” Ms. Rael countered, eyes twinkling.

 

“We…might possibly have feelings for each other,” Gamora confessed, hating every word she uttered. “But we’re not…involved! Nothing to see here!”

 

“I didn’t choose you to play Beatrice and Benedick solely on the basis of your acting skills, Gamora,” Ms. Rael said soothingly. “You two have a natural chemistry that I rarely see in people your age. I thought something like this might happen. A bit of showmance is nowhere near unprecedented.”

 

“I swear, I won’t let it jeopardize the play,” Gamora said, near-panicking. “None of it! I’ve been trying to get the cast to get along again, and it’s getting better, and-“

 

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Ms. Rael replied. “And besides, it’s no matter. The only reason I called you here was to find out what’s really going on between you and Peter!”

 

Gamora could have sworn the floor rose up and smacked her in the face at that moment.

 

_All that for a forced confession?_

 

* * *

 

 

“You look nice,” Peter said, cutting through the backstage silence. The air hung still and thick behind the curtains, drawn for the first time for the first day of tech week.

 

“Thanks.” Gamora somewhat self-consciously glanced down at her green satin skirt, smoothing a stray wrinkle. “So do you.” She’d be lying if she claimed not to have noticed the perfectly-tailored cut of Peter’s formal military uniform, or the way it seemed to give him a sort of effortless confidence she couldn’t pretend wasn’t attractive.

 

Peter’s lips quirked into a half-smug, half-genuine smile. “I know I said Wanda was the most gorgeous understudy around, but the original is in a league of her own.”

 

“You flatter me,” Gamora replied flatly, the darkness concealing her flustered expression.

 

“No matter how this week goes, how bad it seems, whatever disasters might happen on opening night or after, I’ll be glad I got to be a part of this,” Peter told her.

 

Gamora took a shaky breath, taken off-guard by his heartrendingly earnest tenderness. “Absolutely,” she agreed.

 

“Great, isn’t it?” Peter remarked.

 

“What is?”  

 

“Being a part of something that brings so much joy to so many people,” he said, glancing at her expectantly.

 

“Oh, of course. Especially when…” Gamora trailed off, unwilling to say the words she wanted to.

 

“Especially when what?” Peter promptly followed up.

 

“Especially when I get to do that with people like you.”

 

“Oh,” he sighed, barely whispering. “Of course. You’re the best thing about this, did you know that?”

 

“So are you.”

 

“Are we…” Peter began.

 

“I don’t know,” Gamora sighed. “I just don’t know. And we’re running out of time-”

 

“Then that’s okay,” Peter told her, taking her hands in his own. “No. Gamora, we have all the time we need.”  

 

“I have no idea what you mean, but I kind of like it anyway,” she replied, stifling an inopportune laugh.

 

“What I mean is that we’ll figure out where to go from here. We don’t have to decide anything right now, or this week, or this year. If it’s meant to be…”

“It’ll happen,” Gamora finished.

 

“We may have gotten a Beatrice and Benedick start, but we don’t have to have a Beatrice and Benedick ending,” Peter told her. “Everything happens as it should.”

 

“You do realize that Beatrice and Benedick ended up together? So by saying that-“

 

“You know what I mean,” Peter sighed. “Look, I’m trying to be sensitive and romantic here, and I heard girls like that but it doesn’t seem to be working on you, and-“

 

“I know we keep cutting each other off, but stop rambling.” Gamora shook her head in mock exasperation. “I get the point, yes, it’s working, and I guess you’re right.”

 

“All I ever wanted to hear,” Peter replied.

 

“How very disappointing,” Gamora said archly. They traded a look of the utmost conspiracy. "Oh, and I may have been forced to tell Ms. Rael that we like each other..." 

 

Peter choked on the sip of water he'd taken seconds earlier. "I'm sorry,  _what?!?"_

 

"...it'll be fine," Gamora insisted, and for once in her life, she believed herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RANKINGS TIME! 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 80   
> 2\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 3\.   
> 4\.   
> 5\. 
> 
> C'mon, guys! Get those guesses in! It's fun, I promise...


	12. That We May Lighten Our Own Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tech week goes on, and some things never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, whoa! When did that happen? I know almost no one reads this, but I'd like to thank the special few who do for their support! I know this is a crazy idea, and mostly I'm writing it for my own pleasure, but your feedback still means the world to me. Now go and find that easter egg! ;)

“Everybody for act one in the wings now, and be quiet!” Ms. Rael shouted, brandishing her megaphone rather threateningly. “Has anyone seen Rocket?”

 

“Dressing room,” Peter called back. “He’ll be out in a second.”

 

“Thank you. Now everyone in place. Emcees, I need you onstage now!”

 

Gamora took in a hitched breath as the emcees began their introduction. Though she now had six plays and three years under her belt, the thrill of a first full dress rehearsal remained undiminished. Pulling at a stray thread on her dress’ bodice, she didn’t notice someone coming up behind her.

  
“Gamora?” Mantis asked timidly, gently tapping her shoulder. Gamora turned.

  
“Yes?” She replied, hoping her tone wasn’t unintentionally clipped.

 

“I’m…very sorry about all the things we did at the beginning,” she mumbled, hanging her head.

 

“Oh, Mantis,” Gamora sighed, instinctively wrapping her arms around the younger girl. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s all over now. And besides, you never actually did anything.”

 

“But it is the intention that matters,” Mantis protested.

 

“It’s almost like you want me to be mad at you,” Gamora commented fondly. “But really, it’s alright. It isn’t as if you’re the ones who locked us in a closet.”  
  
Mantis giggled nervously at that. “When you were in there…what happened?” She asked, her confidence returning.

 

Gamora clucked her tongue. “My, my, look who’s got a dirty mind!”

 

“Oh,” Mantis muttered. “I am so sorry if I-“

 

“I’m joking,” Gamora reassured her. “Nothing much. We confessed our feelings and whatnot, but…what else was ever going to happen? We could barely stand each other’s company at the time.”

 

“You told him how you felt?” Mantis practically glowed.

 

“She did indeed,” Peter cut in, taking a place beside Gamora and theatrically slinging his arm around her shoulders. “And so did I-“

 

“ _Peter!”_ Gamora snapped.

 

“What? I’m just statin’ facts!” He protested.

 

“Don’t you think this is going to get out?” Gamora asked anxiously.

 

“I’m pretty sure it got out when you _kissed me onstage,”_ Peter replied. “Are you really still worried about that?”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You love me,” Peter countered.

 

“How about we take the middle road and say that I tolerate you?” Gamora asked.

 

“I’ll take it!” Peter very exaggeratedly fist-pumped.

 

“You two are so adorable it makes me want to die!” Mantis squealed, promptly running off to find anyone she could tell about this latest occurrence.

 

“She’s a special one, that’s for sure,” Peter noted fondly. “Real sweet girl, if a bit overenthusiastic.”

 

“She is,” Gamora agreed. “All of them, really. They’re like my younger siblings at this point.”

 

“I can see that,” Peter said. “You’re sort of the mom of the group. ‘S cute.”

 

“I’m not cute,” Gamora snapped.

 

“Nope. You’re gorgeous,” Peter teased.

 

“You disgust me, Quill.”

 

“No more than _reason!”_ Peter singsonged, repeating Benedick’s joking rejection of Beatrice.

 

“Really, this play is too situationally apropos for my liking,” Gamora sighed.

 

“Why are you talking like a snobby middle-aged British woman?” Peter shot back.

 

“Why are you still hitting on me?” Gamora asked.

 

“Why are you not kissing me right now?”

 

“Because I don’t feel like it,” Gamora said blithely, channeling every bit of her acting skill into a false coverup of her flustered demeanor.

 

“Fair enough.” Peter shrugged. “Wanna mess up the stage kiss again?”

 

“Ms. Rael would kill us, Peter.”

 

“Nah.”

 

“It’s almost my entrance,” Gamora told him. “Mantis, come with me!”

 

“Break a leg!” Peter whisper-shouted after them, with the dorkiest look of adoration Gamora had ever seen, and before she could think about it she turning back to kiss his cheek before taking the hem of her skirt in her hands and running onstage as fast as she could without making a sound.

 

Peter stood in the wings in shock, wearing an expression of pure bliss.

 

* * *

 

“How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?” Kraglin, as Don Pedro, asked.

 

“I'll tell thee what, prince,” Peter announced grandly, gesturing with appropriately exaggerated enthusiasm, “a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have saidagainst it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.” Gamora, off to his side, smiled at that, both as herself and as Beatrice. Peter stood with his arm around her waist (a position she couldn’t claim she didn’t enjoy).

  
“I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy singlelife, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceedingly narrowly to thee,” Drax recited, ever so slightly less stiff and formal than usual. For him, it was a marked achievement.

 

“Come, come, we are friends,” Peter began, with a twinkle in his eye that was pure Benedick. “Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.” 

 

“We'll have dancing afterward,” Rocket replied, relishing the ability to shoot down Peter in any circumstances. Peter, denied his immediate right to dance, gave him a petulant glare.

 

“First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn,” Peter told Kraglin, who smiled indulgently but said nothing. A boy whose name Gamora couldn’t recall walked on, dressed as a messenger.

 

“My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,and brought with armed men back to Messina,” he said.

 

“Think not on him till to-morrow,” Peter insisted. “I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers.”

Music swelled in the background, and the curtain fell as the couples onstage prepared to dance. As soon as the velvet descended, blocking the actors from the rest of the world, the stage erupted. Everyone, it seemed, threw their arms around the nearest person, exclaiming wildly, relief palpable in the still, closed-in air, still hot from the stage lights. And in the chaos, Peter found Gamora and for a moment simply held her tight, as if wondering if this was all a dream.

“We did it,” Gamora whispered.

“We did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rankings update: 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 100  
> 2\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 3\.   
> 4\.   
> 5.


	13. I Confess Nothing, Nor Deny Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a last moment of calm before the thick of things, the cast kicks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ALLLLL fluff. Honestly, why not? ;) 
> 
> This chapter is also based on a tradition at my school: the cast barbecue. The director would always host a barbecue at her house the weekend before the play. Let's just assume this takes place in a mild climate so the idea of a barbecue in December isn't absolutely insane, LOL!

“Who is prepared to consume vast quantities of meat?” Drax announced, laughing heartily as he hoisted a gigantic bag of steaks into the air for all to see.

 

“…we were supposed to be having burgers,” Rocket told him.

 

“Is it not obvious that I do not care?” Drax asked, utterly confused at Rocket’s supposed mistaken interpretation of his feelings.

 

“Oh, it’s obvious, all right,” Rocket grumbled, retreating into the backyard. “Try fitting those on the grill.”

 

Ms. Rael, in keeping with tradition, was hosting the semiannual cast barbecue the Saturday before the first performance at her home, an unassuming house with a deceptively large backyard. Had it not been a frigid December afternoon, the cast would likely have been in her swimming pool the second they arrived. Instead, they all clustered around the barbecue in their winter coats, trying to take advantage of its heat (and, in Peter’s case, the glorious smell of burgers cooking).

 

“Peter, why are you sniffing the air?” Gamora asked, equal parts disgusted and concerned.

 

“Burgers,” he said simply. “Meat cooking smells _amazing.”_

“Oh…kay,” Gamora responded haltingly, still not any less convinced that his strange behavior wasn’t a sign that he’d been infected with a brain-eating amoeba.

 

“I have steak!” Drax called triumphantly as he entered the yard with his bag of meat in tow.

  
“We’re making burgers, dude,” Peter told him.

  
Drax had never looked more upset.

 

“…I’m sure we can cook those later,” Ms. Rael, walking out a side door, cut in diplomatically. “Thank you for the…contributions, Drax.”

 

“Beef is so unethical, man,” Groot said, shaking his head. “Animals are our brothers. We have no right to-“

 

“Shut up and let me have my meat in guilt-free peace,” Peter cut him off.

 

“Peter,” Gamora sighed.

 

“Sorry.” He straightened his back, turned to Groot, and cleared his throat. “I understand and respect your beliefs, but I have personally decided that I want burgers.”

 

“Thank you,” Gamora said smugly. She’d had the humiliation factor of the scripted apology she gave Peter to use in cases like this in mind when she came up with it, and she was pleased to find herself reaping the benefit of it now.

 

“Happy now?” Peter grumbled. She didn’t respond, simply giving him a smug sidelong glance.   
  


“Rocket, are the burgers ready yet?” Ms. Rael asked.

 

“Why him?” Peter mouthed to no one in particular. Gamora rolled her eyes at that; he was always one to be jealous, even if for the pettiest of reasons.

 

“Looks like it,” he called back.

 

“Then let’s eat!”

 

The cast, not needing to be told twice, attacked the grill with almost frightening fervor; Drax, predictably, lurked for seconds, hindered by the shoving elbows of his castmates.

 

“Over there?” Peter asked, gesturing to two lounge chairs by the pool. Gamora nodded and, food in hand, followed him (ignoring, for her own benefit, the fact that he’d grabbed her hand to assure that she didn’t change her mind).

 

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” she remarked, stretching out on the chaise. “It seems like auditions were yesterday.”

 

“And like we got locked in a closet last week,” Peter added, smiling softly. “When are spring semester auditions?”

 

“January 23rd, I think,” Gamora said. “It’s only three weeks after break ends, but it always feels like an eternity between plays.”

 

“That’s a long time to go without seeing any of you,” Peter agreed. “I mean, I don’t have a lot of classes with any of you, and-“

 

“You haven’t seen the last of me, Quill,” Gamora teased. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

 

“Hey, you sound like me!” Peter said, his entire face lighting up. “Again, _so_ proud of you!”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“It’s adorable.”

 

“I am not adorable.”

 

“You and I both know that isn’t true,” Peter protested. “You are _very_ adorable.”

 

Gamora glared at him. “Give me three concrete pieces of evidence that I’m adorable and maybe I’ll – no, who am I kidding, I won’t. But I still want to see you try.”

 

“Oh, easy,” Peter insisted. “You’re the mom of the cast, which is very adorable. You kissed me in public once, which is…a _lot_ of things, one of which is definitely adorable. And you also have the cutest frustration face I’ve ever seen. Aaaand…proved it!” He plastered on his most self-satisfied grin.

 

“I have no words for a shameless flirt,” Gamora sighed, falsely icy.

 

“Hey, I’m not anyth-”

 

“Cool it, lovebirds!” Rocket called from across the lawn.

 

“Did they  _hear_ that _?!?”_ Gamora yelped, glancing around frantically. “What the-“

 

“It’s okay!” Kraglin responded. “In this house, we love and support PDA!”

 

“Since when is Kraglin a meme kid?” Peter muttered.

 

“You are in _so much trouble,”_ Gamora snapped.

 

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Peter said smugly.

 

“I am! Not! _Cute!”_ Gamora insisted, drawing the stares of everyone in the yard.

 

“I wouldn’t say it about you personally, but you and Peter are most certainly adorable _together,”_ Ms. Rael interjected. “I hope this one lasts. Usually my cast relationships end in flames, but you two have…potential.”

 

“You have to be joking,” Gamora muttered. “Even Ms. R?”

 

“Hey, we _are_ pretty great,” Peter reasoned. “Makes sense.”

 

“I know we didn’t really set them up, but whatever we didn’t do worked,” Mantis said, entirely content.  

 

“See, Groot? I told you they’d thank us later,” Rocket said smugly.

 

“I don’t think anyone is thanking us for confining them together against their will, man,” Groot sighed. “But, I mean, it _did_ work, even if it was, like, super inconsiderate, man.”

 

“I don’t think we can really take credit for this one,” Kraglin countered. “Y’do know that Gamora knew all about the closet plan and went along with it because she knew she’d never confess to Peter if she didn’t have-“

 

“ _Kraglin!”_ Gamora shouted.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. “Guess I shoulda kept that to myself.”

 

“You… _knew?”_ Rocket asked incredulously. “Oh, that is _rich_!”

 

“Rocket,” Ms. Rael warned.

 

“I mean, I think we can all agree that we’re glad she did,” Peter mediated. “Right?”

 

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Drax said. “Gamora did _what?”_

Gamora sighed, wondering rather fondly if she’d ever get a break with these people. But maybe, she thought, that was just the nature of families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rankings: 
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 100  
> 2\. Joyful_Pessimist - 20  
> 3\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 4\.   
> 5.


	14. For Man is a Giddy Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening night has its peaks and troughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST THERE! I'm not, weirdly enough, as gung-ho fired up to finish this story as I was "Half Timing," but that's probably just the law of diminishing returns. It's still been a great journey and I'm excited to see what Chapter 15 has in store (trust me, I don't know any more than you do!) 
> 
> There are two lines that look like easter eggs, but only one of them was actually supposed to be it. ;)

“Hold down the fort for a while. I have to go…do something,” Gamora said, barely able to stop her head from reeling long enough to give Peter instructions.

 

“Okay…” Peter responded, compliant if confused. “I don’t think it should be much trouble. So…no problem. Is something wrong?”

 

“No, of course not,” Gamora said, pasting on a precursory smile and nearly breaking into a run down the hall. Peter shook his head.

 

“Hey, Mantis?” He called.

 

“Yes?” Mantis replied, poking her head out of the girls’ dressing room.

 

“Gamora put me in charge, but I need to do something. Make sure nothing happens while I’m gone, okay?” Peter instructed her. She nodded enthusiastically, sensing something off.

 

“I won’t. I promise.”

 

“That’s my girl,” Peter replied. Mantis practically glowed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go attend to my other girl. Actually, she’s just my girl, I only have one – eh, never mind, I’m going to talk to Gamora. See ya!”

 

Mantis beamed in spite of her immense confusion; she did not know what he was going on about, but he’d called Gamora his girl, and she thought her head might explode with joy. She planted herself in the hallway, intending to monitor the entrances and exits – Mantis wasn’t one to shirk responsibility, no matter how small.

 

“Gamora!” Peter called, his voice echoing in vain through the empty hall. “Gamora, I know you’re in here!”

 

Hearing nothing, Peter broke into a run towards the nearest door, that of the girls’ bathroom. He pushed open the door and called for her – empty. There weren’t many places to hide in this corridor; the only other doors were to –

 

“I know where you went,” Peter muttered under his breath. He made his way to the end of the hall and threw open the door to the nearest storage closet. Nothing. He shoved it closed again and glanced at the number. “Oh, that was 103?” he asked no one in particular, trying the next.

 

“I told you to watch them,” Gamora snapped, looking up ever so briefly from her place on a pile of props, knees tucked to her chest.

 

Peter crouched down next to her. “I asked Mantis to sub in. You’re more important.”

“If I really were, you’d leave me alone and do what I asked,” Gamora said, voice shaking. She hung her head against her knees and let out a muffled sob. Peter placed a hand on her shoulder, running it down her arm comfortingly until he reached her hand.

 

“Gamora, I was serious. What’s wrong?” he asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

 

“My father just called me. He’s coming tonight,” Gamora responded, her normally authoritative voice disquietingly small.

 

“I’m going to venture a guess that he sucks,” Peter replied.

 

“So much that I tried out for my first play just to get away from him,” Gamora told him, swiping at a stray tear. “This was always my escape from him. Drama became like the family I never had. And now he’s here, too, and-“

 

“Listen to me, okay?” Peter said soothingly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I don’t really know much about your dad, but I do know that no matter how bad he is, he can’t take this away from you. You said it yourself – drama’s like a family. And no one did more to build it than you.”

 

“I don’t get how you can be so incredibly, stupidly romantic at all the worst times,” Gamora sniffed, laughing weakly.

 

“I swear it was unintentional this time. But hey, if he’s as bad as you say, I’ll just murder him for you, okay?” Peter reassured her.

 

“I wouldn’t want you to be sentenced to life in prison for me,” Gamora responded with a near-giggle (she did _not_ giggle, and everyone knew it, but…).

 

“Eh, worth it.” Peter shrugged. “Look, I get that this is, like, the ultimate opening night worst case scenario, but this is your family, like you said, and we owe it to them to kill it tonight. Me included, I hope?”

 

Gamora smiled softly. “Do you really still think I hate you? The only reason I ever pretended to was because I couldn’t stand the idea of anything here changing when it’s the only stability I have,” she told him. “I thought you were going to make it all worse. But…”

 

“Did I?” Peter asked.

 

“Not for a moment.”

 

“Okay, this is all very romantic” – Peter cleared his throat dramatically – “but I think we have a curtain call coming up.”

 

“We do,” Gamora confirmed. “And thank you. Really.”

“Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you right now?” Peter asked nonchalantly, not looking at all nonchalant.

 

“Perhaps,” Gamora teased, grinning wickedly. “But I bet my father would just _hate_ it if his daughter kissed someone onstage…”

 

“I love the way you think,” Peter responded, utterly amazed.

 

* * *

 

 

The stage lights burned hot that night; two hours had worn away, and Gamora felt like collapsing, trying to push thoughts of her father from her mind. Judging by the look on Mantis’ face, she wasn’t the only one. But her last, and perhaps her most important, scene was still to come. Peter sauntered to the center of the stage.

 

“Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?” he asked, perfectly overconfident.

 

Gamora lifted her bridesmaid’s veil. “I answer to that name,” she responded, nervous but collected. “What is your will?”

Peter took several steps in her direction. “Do not you love me?” he asked, his bravado not yet diminished.

 

“Why, _no,_ ” Gamora said, pressing a hand to her chest in mock outrage, “no more than reason.”

**“** Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have been deceived,” Peter told her. “They swore you did.” Gamora raised an eyebrow at that.

**“** Do not _you_ love _me?_ _”_ she countered.

**“** Troth, no,” Peter insisted. “No more than _reason._ _”_

**“** Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula are much deceived; for they did swear you did,” Gamora replied coolly, almost coyly.

 

“They swore that you were almost sick for me!” Peter cried, as offended as she’d been cool. Gamora – or, rather, Beatrice – mirrored his outraged tone.

**“** They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me!” she shot back.

**“** 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?” He asked, not appearing disappointed in the slightest.

**“** No, truly, but in friendly recompense,” Gamora answered decisively.

 

“Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman,” Rocket interjected, exaggeratedly raising an eyebrow at Gamora.

 

“And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her, for here's a paper written in his hand,a halting sonnet of his own pure brain, fashion'd to Beatrice,” Drax cut in, his freakishly literal mind and hearty enthusiasm fitting the moment impressively.

 

 **“** And here's anotherwrit in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, containing her affection unto Benedick!” Mantis added, excitedly showing off the incriminating paper with a childlike joy that was both purely her own and entirely like that of Hero.

“A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts,” Peter announced, slyly pleased to have been so exposed. “Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.”

**“** I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption,” Gamora replied, her tone saccharinely teasing.

**“** Peace! I will stop your mouth,” Peter insisted, shooting her a searching look – _should we?_

She shook her head subtly. _No._

 

He nodded in understanding and false-kissed her as instructed, doubtless recognizing that she’d deemed it unwise to deviate from the script again. Besides, if the hollering sophomore girls in the front row (Mantis’ friends, perhaps?) were any indication, no one much cared if the kiss was genuine.

**“** How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?” Kraglin asked with genuine pleasure.

**“** I'll tell thee what, prince,” Peter began cavalierly. “A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.”

**“** I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice,that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy singlelife, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceedingly narrowly to thee,” Drax replied.

**“** Come, come, we are friends: let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels,” Peter said, gesticulating grandiosely. Gamora smiled, thinking to herself that the offstage Peter would make precisely the same request on such an occasion.

“We'll have dancing afterward,” Rocket deflected, not relishing the opportunity to shoot Peter down any less now than he had the first time he’d read the line.

**“** First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn,” Peter announced. The messanger shuffled onstage, looking rather out of place.

**“** My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, and brought with armed men back to Messina,” he recited mechanically. No one paid much heed.

**“** Think not on him till tomorrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers!” Peter instructed. Music began to play and couples moved across the stage to the backdrop of falling velvet. As soon as the curtain fell, Gamora collapsed onto an ottoman in exhaustion, physical and emotional.

 

“The music’s still playing, you know,” Peter said, reaching for her hand to pull her from the ottoman. “Dance with me, Beatrice.”

 

Exhausted as she was, Gamora had to smile at that. “Much obliged, Benedick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rankings time!
> 
> 1\. LegoTea - 120  
> 2\. joyful_pessimist - 20  
> 3\. Marcisprinkles - 15  
> 4\.   
> 5.


	15. I Love Nothing in the World So Well as You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love doesn't end after the curtain falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, brace yourselves. "Cheesy" isn't a sufficiently dramatic word to express how utterly saccharine this chapter is. This isn't just a wheel of cheese - it's a river of queso dip. But I really, REALLY wanted an excuse to write shameless fluff, and since almost no one reads this story anyway, I figured I might as well. Enjoy! 
> 
> No easter egg in this one.

“I told my father I was at Waffle Planet after the show with the rest of the cast, you know,” Gamora said, slipping into a plush theater seat. Much Ado About Nothing’s final showing had been by all accounts a triumph, and she looked forward to taking a much-needed breather.

 

“When really, you’re here with me?” Peter asked fondly, draping his arm around her shoulders.

 

“Stop that, you, you’re going to make me kiss you again,” Gamora teased.

 

“Why would I _ever_ stop, then?” Peter protested, cut off by the beginning of a trailer for a sappy upcoming drama.

 

“They say not to kiss on the first date,” Gamora replied, fishing through her bag faux-distractedly.

 

“I’ve always been one for expectation subversion,” Peter countered smoothly, pushing up the armrest between their seats to pull her closer. Gamora looked up briefly but said nothing. Sinking into him, she watched the previews raptly – she had so few opportunities to see movies that the idea of it was almost novel. Sitting in the chilly theater late at night, not noticing its overly aggressive use of the air conditioner for the warmth of the boy beside her, Gamora felt a strange sort of thrill; she couldn’t help but think, _this is what life is supposed to feel like._

“Hey, Gamora?” Peter asked, breaking her train of thought.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I…think I’m in love with you.”

 

Shoving aside the pleasant feeling of shock blooming in her chest, Gamora shook her head fondly. “As if I didn’t already know that?”

 

Peter practically deflated. “You were supposed to say it back.”

  
“Oh.” Gamora leaned against him. “In that case, Peter…”

 

“Yes?” Peter prompted.

 

“I love you more.”

 

“That is definitely not possible,” Peter insisted.

 

“Oh, it is,” Gamora countered. “Wasn’t I the one who let us be locked in a closet because I knew I’d never confess to you if I wasn’t forced to?”

 

“Wasn’t I the one who hunted you down when you ran off to the closet we got locked in to comfort you when your dad showed up?” Peter shot back.

 

“Wasn’t I the one whose first thought when I needed to think was to go to said closet because the thought of you brought me comfort?” Gamora asked, smirking triumphantly.

 

“That is… _so_ much more attractive than you realize,” Peter replied after a brief pause, nearly breathless.

 

“You’re a strange one, Quill,” Gamora sighed.

 

“What? You _are,”_ Peter insisted.

“You too, I guess?”

 

“Why, thank you. Now be quiet, they’re about to do a musical number!”

 

* * *

 

 

It was a frigid night, and Peter and Gamora walked out of the theater into a deserted mall with the beginnings of a frost on every surface. It was deathly silent; either creepy or romantic, Gamora decided, depending on how one looked at it.

 

“What time did you tell your dad you’d be home?” Peter asked. “Mine doesn’t care as long as I’m not mortally wounded, so it’s up to you.”

 

“One, I think,” Gamora replied, taking his hand. “It’s twelve-twenty. We have some time.”

 

“Take a walk?” Peter suggested, offering his arm.

 

“Sounds good,” Gamora said, taking his extended arm. “I feel like I’m in an old movie.”

 

“It’s a good feeling, is it not?” Peter asked, guiding her towards a small, grassy park on the opposite side of the parking lot. The lawn was edged with frost and its single wooden bench looked slick with ice.

 

“It’s supposed to snow tomorrow,” Gamora thought aloud.

 

“Tomorrow?” Peter glanced upwards. “Looks like it could start tonight, if the clouds are any indication.”

 

“I swear, if it starts snowing, I’m going to…”

 

Peter opened his palm upwards. “Watch it start snowing just because you said that,” he told her.

 

It took several minutes of fruitlessly standing in place for him to be convinced that the clouds would not precipitate ice crystals on cue. Peter looked rather disappointed to realize that he couldn’t summon meteorological phenomena but quickly forgot, walking the tiny park’s perimeter.

 

“I’ll never forget the look on Ronan’s face when Groot forgot that line,” Gamora said, smiling to herself.

 

“Yeah, I thought he was going to combust,” Peter agreed. “That was fantastic. I almost want to believe Groot did it on purpose.”

 

“I can’t believe the next play is our last,” Gamora sighed. “I’m going to miss this more than you could ever imagine.”

 

“Aren’t you doing something with theater in college?” Peter asked.

 

“Yeah, minor. But this group – nothing’s going to replace that.”

 

Peter evidently hadn’t been listening, if the way he exuberantly shoved his open hand at Gamora meant anything. She glanced at it, wondering what could possibly be this important.

 

“See that?” he asked. Gamora glanced at his palm and noticed, somewhat to her chagrin, a droplet of melted snow in his hand.

 

“You have to be joking.”

 

“This is so perfect,” Peter said to himself, giddy with excitement. “Did I ever tell you that snow is my favorite thing in the entire universe?”

 

“No, you didn’t,” Gamora replied, noticing the flakes, now drifting down in earnest, cascading around them. “But that’s impressive luck. Clearly, we’re living in a romantic comedy or something.”

 

“Honestly? I wouldn’t doubt it at this point.” Peter impulsively took her into his arms and simply held her for a moment, pressing his cheek against her hair. “I am so, so, _so_ lucky.”

 

“You’re not the only one,” Gamora choked, “and I also can’t breathe.”

 

“Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly. “What time is it now? Don’t you have to be back soon?”

 

“Peter,” Gamora chastised, “why would you talk about leaving at a time like this?”

 

“I wish I never had to, but leaving seems to be the only thing I’ve ever been good at,” Peter mumbled.

 

“You idiot,” Gamora sighed fondly, taking his hands. “You’ve already stayed too long for me to let you do that.”

 

“Hey, there’s got to be an exception to the rule,” Peter protested. "I'll let that be you." 

 

"So I’m the exception?”

 

“The one and only,” Peter announced, “thing – or person, I guess – that ever made me want to stay.”

 

Surrounded by a curtain of falling snow, in a lover’s world solely their own, Gamora couldn’t help entertaining an incredibly inadvisable thought.

 

“I…have to go soon,” she admitted reluctantly. “But…”

 

“Yeah?” Peter asked.

 

“Could you…maybe…”

 

“Of course I’ll walk you to your car,” Peter told her. “Let’s-“

 

“No, no, that isn’t it,” Gamora said, face flushing. “I wanted to know if, uh…ugh, why can’t I say it?”

 

“Oh.” Peter’s entire face lit up. “Gamora, you should have said something!”

 

“I tried to-“

 

“Peace! I will stop your lips,” he quoted, leaning in to kiss her.

 

She never wanted to break away. But she knew, when she did, turned away to leave for the night, that this was not the last kiss, not the last time they’d share “I love yous,” not the last snowfall they’d watch together.

 

Neither of them had ever been good at staying. But whatever this strange, beautiful thing they had was, it was worth remaining for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muchisimas gracias for reading this! All of your support meant the world to me. I knew going in that this was a crazy idea, so narrow of niche that not many people would enjoy it; I didn't expect anyone to read or like this. But it taught me to write for my own joy above all else, so I charged ahead - and I found that a couple of wonderful people actually did like it. Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart! I promise I'll be back with something a bit more generic. But for now, I hope you enjoyed this crazy, slapdash attempt at a theater AU. :)


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